#on the minus side i think it's now diverting my attention from what should really be my main project argh

[mimicteruyo]

Me: That’s one chapter done! ...but I have no memory of how the next chapter was supposed to begin so I’d better check my notes.

The planned chapter opening in the notes: *fucking sucks*

[strayingdawn]

Can I request a felix one where they go to a small shop to buy snacks at midnight and get in a tiny bit of trouble with the store owner by accident?

Of course! And sorry this took so long, I hope you like it! :) (I didn’t mean for it to get this long...oops. Sorry about that) >and feedback from anyone is always appreciated uwu

wc: 1,8k

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“Are you crying?” Felix asked you with slight amusement in his eyes as he lifted one eyebrow.

“What?! Why would I be cr-” A startling hiccup interrupted your sentence. “... Okay, maybe I teared up a little.” No one would believe your failed attempt at denial if they could see you, and Felix had a front-row seat. Your red-rimmed eyes slightly stung as more salty streams of tears flowed down your face. The image was quite pitiful without context. However, in this scenario, Felix couldn’t help but let a few giggles escape him.

You and Felix had been trying to schedule a night to spend together for weeks, maybe even months at this point. Whenever you both thought you had finally set a date, one of your teachers would rip it from your fingertips and replace it with a new project or test to study for. Sure, you could have study dates, but you both know that your heightened crackhead energy when together and deliriousness induced by deadlines would not mix well. In short, you would both fail. And if you weren’t both drowning in assignments, either you would have a club meeting or Felix would have a swim meet.

However, finally, the odds were in your favor. After many tiring weeks of missing each other's warmth, smiles, and comfort, you both found a clear weekend.

So, tonight, you’re in your bedroom, surrounded by many blankets you didn’t even know you owned inside the elaborate fort you and Felix managed to somehow build. Of course, the first attempt failed after you “accidentally” passed a pillow to Felix while he wasn’t looking which resulted in a pillow fight, and Felix cheating by tickling you. Obviously, you still won, but that’s not important. You finally finished your fort after cleaning up the pillows and blankets that were scattered everywhere (including the pillow that somehow ended up on a curtain rod) and prepared Disney+ for your movie marathon while Felix got snacks downstairs.

Now, the reason why you’re crying right now. You and Felix were well aware that as long as you were involved, it wasn’t truly a Disney+ movie marathon if Hamilton was not played at least once throughout the night. And Felix is always willing to tolerate your addiction to the music and action that is Hamilton. However, with the number of times you’ve already watched it, which has surely exceeded fifty, he didn’t think you would still have the ability to cry by the final curtain call. Clearly, he was mistaken.

“Haven’t you seen this like fifty times?” he questioned with skepticism in his voice and some confusion painted on his face, especially since you usually remained neutral through any movie, despite the occasional teary eyes.

“Who cares! It’s heartbreaking seeing his monologue before death, Burr’s guilt, and then Eliza goes on to tell his story and the stories of others,” more sobs break through the air as you recall the final scenes. Sure, you could admit you were being a little dramatic, but how could anyone not find someone’s death and unfinished legacy depressing. “Wait...did we run out of snacks?”

But of course, food is some of the best medicine for sadness, and easily snaps you out of your misery.

“Huh, I guess so…”

“Well, what do you want to watch next? I can set it up while you get more.”

“About that...those were all the snacks you had…”

“What! What do you mean that’s all I had? It wasn’t even that much!” You knew you went through lots of snacks this past week while you studied since you usually pushed eating an actual meal to the side, prioritizing your work. But you didn’t know you basically cleared out the kitchen.

“Well, what are you yelling at me for? I’m not the one who runs on four hours of sleep a night and depends on candy and coffee to make up for it.”

“Okay, now's not the time point to point out my poor life choices.” You paused for a second, trying to think of a solution for your dilemma. “Well, what are we supposed to do now? It’s,” you glanced at your bedside clock, “12:00 am.”

“We could go to that little shop down the street” Felix suggested, but you weren’t sure you should go anywhere this late at night, especially in your current state, even though the idea of food was pretty persuading.

“I don’t know..should we be going out this late?” You were all for adventures, and you considered your neighborhood to be pretty safe, but your warm fort and stuffed animals tempted you to stay. Felix noticed your hesitation.

“Come on. It’s not like we’ve never gone out for a late-night snack before...plus, we can get creamsicles,” he said, nudging your shoulders, knowing you couldn’t deny your favorite ice cream. Curse Felix and the way he knows you like the back of his hand.

You sighed, also knowing he had you hooked. “Fine,” you huffed. “Let’s go.” You stood up and held out your hand, which he gladly grasped onto as he rose to his feet as well.

“Wow, you’ll really do anything for creamsicles,” Felix teased with a slight smirk that you could see in your peripheral vision.

“Oh shut up, you act like we’re going on some death-defying journey,” you roll your eyes at Felix’s attempt to provoke you. He simply shrugged his shoulders and chuckled a little.

As soon as you stepped out of your front door, you felt the gentle breeze envelope you. It wasn’t too cold nor was it too warm; it was slightly cool and simply refreshing. The soft wind pushed your hoodie and sweatpants into your body like a hug and blew your hair out of your face giving you a clear view of the night sky. The stars twinkled like glitter on a black piece of paper. You felt connected with everything as you inhaled a deep breath. You started to get lost in your surroundings until Felix’s slight tug on your arm brought you back to reality.

“Oh, sorry. I forgot how much I enjoy nights like these.” You had a relaxed smile on your face, as you admired the stars and the shapes they created while walking beside him.

Felix simply hummed, submitting the earlier, breathtaking image of you at such peace into his memory. “It’s fine. It does feel really nice out here. Aren’t you glad I convinced you to come?” He asked in a rather teasing tone.

“Yeah, yeah. Ya did good.” You rolled your eyes while letting out a chuckle. Felix followed with some of his famous giggles.

The rest of the small, five-minute walk was filled with little jokes and clowning each other if the other one tripped or stumbled. Before you knew it you were already walking into the little shop, and the woman, who you assumed was the owner since you’ve seen them at the shop in passing many times when the shop was closed, greeted you both, fairly friendly despite this late hour.

You and Felix separated once he suggested you could split up, considering you both knew each other’s likes and dislikes fairly well. You wandered across the beige floor tiles towards the chip aisle, while the drinks caught Felix’s attention.

After choosing seven bags of different chips, for variety of course, you noticed a certain stand-alone display across from you. It held quite the selection of little cake snacks. It seemed new which piqued your interest, so you decided to search for something that might suit your taste. Apparently, you must have been so focused on the baked goods that you didn’t even hear Felix’s steps coming toward you. Felix also noticed your diverted attention.

“Boo!”

Now, those who knew you well also knew your tendencies to be dramatic, especially when startled. So Felix’s sudden exclamation had you springing forward, arms flailing...right into the display. The whole snack arrangement wasn’t even that big, shorter than you, but it still managed to make a great boom and fading rumble as the impact sent waves of vibrations through the metal and some cakes went flying in different directions.

At first, you were frozen in complete shock, staring at the disaster in front of you. Until you caught a glimpse of the freckled boy who was now beside you, also surprised by your reaction.

“Felix!” You whisper-shouted in an accusing tone, even though the clear, loud crash surely already caught the store owner’s attention.

“What do you mean ‘Felix’? You’re the one who knocked it over!”

“And you’re the one who scared me which made me knock it over!”

“Well I didn’t know you were almost worse than Hyunjin and his dramatics!”

You let out an exasperated and somewhat panicked sigh. “Well, what do we-”

“Oh my goodness!” Oh no. You wouldn’t have to think about your question for too long, as the owner would surely give a solution. Whether that was good or bad, you didn’t know yet.

“Wh- I-I am s-so sorry! I was startled, a-and accidentally knocked it over! I promise it was an accident-” you fumbled for the right words to say, hoping the store owner would have mercy on you.

“Um...it’s fine..accidents do happen. However, you’ll have to pay for this mess you’ve created one way or another.” She still wore a calm, sweet smile that eased your worries.

“O-of course! We will gladly clean this mess for you.”

Felix noticed your specific choice of pronouns. “We?” You only jabbed Felix’s side with your elbow and confirmed what you said under your breath. As Felix attempted to reason with you, the store owner grabbed a garbage bin for the few treats that didn’t take the fall as well as others.

Forty-five minutes and a whining Felix later, the display was basically back to its original state, minus a few snacks. Thankfully, the owner didn’t immediately kick you out after your work was done and continued to assure you that the two of you were still welcome anytime. So, you both walked out with bags full of drinks and food to last you a week full of movie marathons, unless you get flooded with work and revert to old habits, of course.

“I still can’t believe you dragged me into your mess,” Felix commented, still seeming a little salty about being forced, by you, to clean up the little cakes crushed by the display. However, you knew his frown was only a disguise, so he could give you a hard time. Felix would have helped even if you had begged him not to. He might laugh at your misery first but would still lend a hand nevertheless.

“Oh, it wasn’t that bad. Besides, it was worth it,” you held up the bag you were holding full of ice cream. A smile slowly appeared on your face as you remembered Felix’s words from earlier. Felix seemed to catch on quickly, so you both spoke your thoughts aloud.

“Anything for creamsicles.”

[tamakiamajikistentacles]

Disappearance 6: The Rescue {Katsuki Bakugo}

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated! Chiasa has been THROUGH it and writing this rescue felt like the least I could do for her.

Disappearance Masterlist

None of them slept that night except the boy. Jiro’s lullabies had worked wonders on him and it was nice to see him so peaceful. He was curled into the corner of the sofa with his face smushed against the backrest, the fabric’s pink imprint visible on his nose when he shifted.

Katsuki spent more time in his office than necessary just watching over him. He didn’t want him to be alone if he woke and he had of course come to care about the boy in the few hours since he’d been brought back to the agency. Any extension of Chiasa had a piece of his heart.

He could only hope that their plan would allow for a reunion of the two, though he wouldn’t be surprised if it was more of an introduction on both accounts.

His shoulders had been tensed for hours as he watched the clock tick closer to their departure time and they felt even tighter when Jiro came into his office to stay with the boy when it was time for the rest of them to move out. She offered him an encouraging smile.

“We’ll be waiting for you and Chiasa to get back. Been too long since we’ve all been together.”

That burned the fire in his eyes even brighter—he wasn’t just bringing her back for himself or for the boy, but also for the friends they both shared for so many years. The friends who missed her too, who helped him search for her when she first disappeared, and who apologized for giving up on her even when he never did. The friends who were stepping up when it mattered most.

He adjusted his grenade belt as he wordlessly left the room. She knew she had his thanks whether he verbalized it or not.

Passing one of the smaller offices he saw Mina and Sero sharing a box of Pocky and he rolled his eyes. Leave it to those two to be eating snacks so early in the morning.

He finally met the rest of the raid team in the lobby where Hikari was handing out the known layout of the antiques shop. They’d already gone over it extensively in their planning session earlier in the night but he knew damn well who he was teaming up with. Deku was already muttering the plan under his breath as he traced his hand over the small map.

They all looked up as he cleared his throat loudly. With their attention caught, he looked each of them in the eye before declaring, “It’s time to move.”

It was still early when they arrived in Nagoya and met with the officers who would be assisting them for their raid and serving the warrant to the shop owners. They also had to be questioned about their involvement with the League, though that wasn’t the highest priority for the morning.

The police chief was in attendance and happily shook Katsuki’s hand with a slightly starstruck look in his eye as he glanced around at the other heroes behind him. He chattered about their plan to evacuate the owners as soon as the shop opened before the hero team could move in.

Everyone was alert and ready as they watched the shop from their vantage point within an empty pffice building directly across from Niwata Antiques.

“T minus five minutes,” the chief called out.

A chill ran up his spine as he considered how close he was to seeing Chiasa. Even though he was afraid to know what state she was in from her time as a captive he was eager to see her alive and in front of him.

“Kacchan.”

He turned to see Deku behind him, chin pointed defiantly.

“You’re going to leave Shigaraki to me?” he asked.

“I said I would, didn’t I?” Katsuki sneered.

Deku didn’t back down at his bite. “For what he’s done to Chiasa I understand if you want your chance at him, but you have to leave him to me. I can’t face him if anyone else is around to get hurt. I need to be able to go 100%.”

“I said he was yours you fucking nerd!” he hissed. “I’ll take down anyone in my way of finding her but you dance with that musty asshole all you want.”

“One minute!” the chief called, and the two heroes turned their attention back to the front of the building, understanding passing between them as time ran out.

The next few moments went very quickly as the officers crossed the street and entered the shop to serve the search warrant to the owners and escorting the elderly couple out.

Immediately, Todoroki realized their problem. “The son is still inside.”

“Move!” Katsuki ordered, the six heroes rushing out of the office door without the chief’s signal.

Kaminari and Kirishima led the charge into the shop and headed straight for the basement with all but Uraraka, who stayed to canvas the upstairs apartment, following them down. As soon as they found the control panel Kaminari cut the power to the entire building in hopes of preventing any additional alarms or signals to the villains that they were there. He stayed at the panel to divert as much energy as he could to prepare for a largescale discharge should they need it.

They broke through the small door beneath the stairs that lead into a small hallway before opening up to a dingy kitchen that narrowed into another longer hallway.

Even more chaos erupted then as they were met with Spinner and Toga advancing towards them with swords and needle ready to attack. They launched themselves forward to keep them back in the kitchen area, a flash of white hair over their shoulders just barely visible.

Kirishima crossed his hardened arms in defense of Toga’s needle, the metal chipping against his skin, and Todoroki blocked the oncoming sword attack with his ice, small shards flying off to the side.

“You two go!” Kirishima shouted towards Katsuki and Deku, holding off the small blonde as she continued to attack.

They didn’t need told twice, both of them darting through the two fights to follow the long hallway with several doors lining each side. Ahead of them they could see Shigaraki dart into a room on the right and a faint white glow began to emanate from the room.

“He has an escape!” Deku snarled as he sped into the room.

Katsuki was half a step behind him and entered the room just in time to see a bald man glowing brighter by the second as he touched Shigaraki’s forearm, their silhouettes beginning to fade out. Before he could register what was happening he saw Deku lunge towards them and fade with them until all three were gone.

As angry as he was that he couldn’t reach them as fast as Deku had, he realized this was likely for the better. After all, Deku wanted Shigaraki without any of them in the way, so what better way for the confrontation to play out?

“We’re clear!” he heard shouted through his comm, the words staticky and slightly muffled.

“Shigaraki and Deku were taken via transport quirk to an unknown secondary location,” he radioed back. “Shoto, Uravity, you two see if you can find his location and secure the scene. But let them fight.”

With an affirmative sent back he turned his attention to the most important part of his mission and recalled the information he had been given at Tartarus.

In a concrete room on the far end of the villain’s safehouse is where he found her, no windows to let in any sun just like Dabi had described. The light from the hallway illuminated the shadowed room with an eerie glow as he saw her for the first time in over four years.

She was sitting upright on a thin futon and leaning against the wall with her arms wrapped around herself. Her skin was pale in the low light and she seemed to be asleep, not giving any indication that she knew he was there. He could see how much thinner she looked and her hair looked greasy and matted just like the little boy.

His heart ached in his chest as he took his first hesitant step into the room, kneeling down once he reached the futon.

“Chiasa,” he called softly, not wanting to startle her awake. “C’mon baby, I need you to wake up.”

She let out a sigh, still asleep, and curled herself closer to the wall.

“You have to wake up,” he said again, this time a bit louder. “Chiasa, its Katsuki. I found you, you’re safe now.”

Stirring slightly, her eyelids fluttered before blinking open lazily. Pulling away from the wall just a bit her head lolled to the side as if it were a great effort to hold it up. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was. She was only half-conscious and he didn’t know if it was because of just waking up or a number of other far more sinister reasons.

She hummed when she saw him. “Not again, Toga.”

Bakugo’s brows furrowed. She thought he was Toga? Had that little freak been using her quirk to fuck with her? But where the hell would she even get his blood?

“Won’t fall for it,” Chiasa murmured, closing her eyes. “Not again.”

“It’s not a trick, baby. I’m not Toga trying to mess with you. It’s really me.”

Her eyes blinked open again to get a better look at him. He held still to give her time to recognize him as himself.

“Yeah, you’re Katsuki,” she finally said with a chuckle.

He let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and smiled.

“Wish you were real.”

His heart sank.

“If you were real…” she started quietly, “I’d probably cry. Savin’ me because you’re a hero is enough.”

Enough?

“Chiasa—”

“Know it’s too late,” she interrupted. “Been too long and I’m... I’m not the same. Not like I was. Dunno if I ever could be again y’know?”

Every putdown she listed made him angrier. Why the hell would he ever give her up now that he’d gotten her back?

“Not worth it now, I don’t think,” she whispered sadly.

That was what made him snap, ripping his gloves off and tossing them aside. With a quick swipe of his palms against his costume, he reached out and lightly tugged her arms from where they were still wrapped around her. When they were free he grabbed her hands in his.

“I’m real. I’m right here, in front of you in this shitty League safehouse. I’m here to take you home, back to our apartment. You and your boy—he’s okay, sittin’ at my agency with Jiro—I’m takin’ you home where you belong, okay? I’ve spent too long without you and I ain’t letting you go again. You’re too damn important to me.”

Her eyes widened and dropped down to where his hands held hers. She freed her hands from his hold and he watched as she hesitantly ran her fingers over his palm. A hitch in her breathing startled him and he realized that she had started to cry, but a smile was forming on her lips nonetheless.

“Katsuki,” she whispered. “You really came for me?”

“’Course I came,” he chuckled. “Now let’s get you out. Can you stand?”

She nodded, her legs wobbling slightly as he helped her to her feet. His hand went to the small of her back once he had retrieved his gloves and he led her out of the room, frowning when she grimaced at the lighting and her fingers dug into his bicep weakly. He tucked her under his arm to keep her close and somewhat shielded from the light as they moved through the safehouse.

Her legs were shaky and it made her stumble every few steps, but they were soon in the main room of the house where Kirishima and Kaminari were waiting for them. Both of them smiled when they saw her, their mission completed.

“It’s so good to see you,” Kirishima said with a relieved sigh. “We missed you.”

Trembling next to Katsuki, exhausted, she grinned. “I missed you guys too.”

Her eyes fluttered closed as she leaned more into the blonde at her side, silent darkness engulfing her as she passed out on her feet.

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated!

Disappearance Masterlist

[skye-maxwell]

28. noceur - one who stays up late

Persona 4 | Souyo | Rated T

(Pre-relationship, a bit of hurt before the comfort)

—

On his first night back in Tokyo after his whirlwind year in Inaba, Souji stayed up waiting for midnight, staring at the old hand-me-down TV set in his bedroom. 

Nothing happened, of course. The TV didn’t hum to life on its own; no one showed up on the screen; nothing broke the suffocating silence except his own heart’s punctuated pounding. He even reached a hand out to see if it would break through the plane of the dusty screen. It didn’t.

He was relieved in a way, but in another way, he wasn’t. 

He speculated as to why that might be for the next five hours as he tossed and turned in bed, alternating between staring at the ceiling, the walls, and the pictures of his friends from Inaba that lived on his phone. 

The vague answer he eventually came up with was that he wanted the impossible; everything his heart desired the most was beyond his reach: he wanted to be back in Inaba; he wanted to rewind time and relive the past year (minus all the horrible parts, of course); and he wanted to have his Partner by his side.

A week of this nightly torture—waiting for a Midnight Channel that wasn’t going to appear and then overthinking every aspect of his past and future for hours and hours while miserably waiting for fitful sleep to come—went by. He had never felt more exhausted, not even after his biggest battles in the TV World.

He didn’t want to be needy, but on night number eight, he finally broke down and called Yosuke.

“I don’t really know why I do it,” Souji said after explaining his fixation on waiting for the Midnight Channel. 

“Maybe you’re hoping your soulmate will pop up?” Yosuke joked. “If you’re lonely, I’m sure there’s plenty of girls in the city who would love to help you out with that!” 

Souji grimaced, starting to regret having called Yosuke. 

He loved Yosuke, of course, but the fact that he loved him was one of the problems. He loved him a lot, probably too much.

Souji had always been bothered by Yosuke’s comments about Souji being some sort of chick magnet. He still couldn’t figure out why so many girls in Inaba had been interested in him, and the interest had unfortunately never been mutual, which led to a lot of guilt and awkwardness on his part. 

But back then he loved Yosuke, and only Yosuke. 

Well, that was still the case, which is why a significant portion of his sleepless nights was dedicated to feeling hopeless about that whole situation. His best friend, who apparently thought Souji should alleviate his loneliness with any city girl who would bat his eyelashes at him, loved him as his Partner but was never going to love him back romantically. And that was the worst kind of loneliness—he missed Yosuke on so many levels it was physically painful. He missed his physical presence by his side; he missed their routine that they’d grown so accustomed to; he missed a shared future he had imagined but that they would never actually have… 

“I promise I’m not waiting for my soulmate to appear,” Souji said dryly. 

“Hey, there’s no shame in wanting that! It’s kinda nice to think there’s somebody out there just for you…”

Souji pulled the phone away from his face for a moment to heave a heavy sigh; this conversation was going to make him sick to his stomach. 

Bringing the receiver back to his mouth, Souji attempted to keep things light: “The only person who’s shown up on the screen is my own reflection, and I sincerely hope I’m not my own soulmate.”

“Well, personas are like souls, and you have multiple… and hey, aren’t your Oberon guy and that Titania chick married? Maybe you are your own soulmate!” 

“Please, Yosuke, no…” Souji groaned. “Oh, and by the way, their marriage seems shaky at best, so that makes it even worse.” 

“I’m just kidding, man! You’re not your own soulmate.” 

“Well, now I’m not sure,” Souji said dismally, wanting to bury his face in his pillow. 

“Chin up, Partner. Anyone would be lucky to have you as a soulmate.” 

Souji scoffed, noting that the exhaustion was causing his normally rock-solid filter to slip. “You really think so, Yosuke?”

“Of course! Yosuke Hanamura’s partner could never be less than the best!” Yosuke stated proudly. 

Souji gritted his teeth, somehow filled with both annoyance and affection. 

After a too-short moment of contemplation, Souji blurted out: “I think I know why my soulmate’s not showing up on the TV.” 

“Uh, because it hasn’t rained, and you’re not in Inaba, and that whole thing was just a rumor to begin with?” 

Souji felt a distinct wave of anguish rise up in him, and while he was hoping for something more articulate, all he ended up whining out was, “Yosuke…” 

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t want some soulmate to show up,” Souji said frustratedly. He wanted Yosuke to be his soulmate, and if soulmates didn’t exist, he still wanted Yosuke. “I want… Damn it. When you said anyone would be lucky to have me, I wanted that to include you! I wish… I wish that included you.” 

Fuck, Souji thought. What the hell did I just do? Maybe he won’t get it. Of course he won’t get it. But just in case, how should I play it off—

“It did. It… it does.” 

“What?” Souji asked as his mind tripped over itself and its plans to divert Yosuke’s attention from his accidental confession.

“It… included me,” Yosuke said softly, but then he suddenly declared, “E-especially me!” 

If Souji’s mind had tripped over itself before, it was now tumbling down a long staircase, picking up speed and headed for a disastrous crash landing. 

Souji was about to ask for clarification, but then Yosuke started yelling a series of clarifications about how he missed Souji so much and how he had been miserable ever since he left town and how he just wanted to be with him… 

Then Yosuke started hiccuping and crying, and Souji just about lost it, because how dare anything make his Partner cry, but also wow because that wasn’t a rational thought… 

Before, Souji had very much desired a night of restful sleep, but this time when he didn’t get it, he didn’t mind one bit. 

He and Yosuke stayed up all night talking to each other, clarifying things and confessing things, crying and laughing on and off, wistfully reminiscing and frantically trying to figure out when they could fit in a visit to see each other asap, so they could say these things in person and so they could hug each other so tightly they would break each other’s bones and so they could kiss the stupid smirks off each other’s stupid faces… 

As the sun rose and Souji batted at his curtains to keep the offending sunlight out, the two of them started their long goodbyes. 

Then Yosuke suddenly said, “Hey, before you go… sometimes I wait for the Midnight Channel too. I’m scared something’s gonna pop up again, but I’m even more scared of missing something and not saving somebody who needs to be saved. I’m guessing that’s part of why you do it too. But I definitely wasn’t watching and waiting for my soulmate to appear. I didn’t need to, because I already had you.” 

Souji had thought he’d run out of tears by now, but here they were again, hot and trickling from the corners of his eyes. 

“Is it too soon to say I love you?” 

Yosuke laughed in delight, and then he was hiccuping again. 

“No. I… I’ve been wanting to hear that… for a long time.”

“I love you, Yosuke.”

“Partner… I love you too.”

After they finally hung up, with solid plans for Yosuke to shirk all else the following weekend and come to the city, Souji had the best sleep of his life, paired with dreams of Yosuke that were so pleasant he couldn’t have written them himself. 

He didn’t wake up again until that afternoon when Yosuke called to tell him he’d bought his train ticket and that he couldn’t wait to see him and that he hadn’t slept a wink because he was so excited and because his persona had been freaking out all day and that he loved Souji, more than anything. 

[gaycrouton]

Times they did something which could be considered 'intimate' or something couples would do

Ten Times Mulder and Scully were intimate in their own unique way. UST. MSR.

Huge shout out to @admiralty-xfd for her beta and for helping me think of a good chunk of these.

I

“What’s this?” she asked, picking up the metal key he’d set on her desk. She already had a key to the office, she didn’t need another one. She flipped it over and saw on the other side, the word ‘SCULLY’ was written in black marker in Mulder’s signature scrawl.

“It’s a key to my apartment,” he responded. A permanent key to his apartment.

She felt a look of surprise pass over her face as she raised her gaze to look at him. “W-what’s it for?”

He looked at her for a moment, almost nervous, and for some reason it made her nervous. “Are you still available?” he asked. She was learning he was a bit of a flirt, but this was a little bold even for him. She’d just told him that she broke up with Ethan less than a month ago. She still kept forgetting he liked Iced Tea when it was her turn to run and get lunch. And now he was inviting her over for…?

“…For what?” she replied, tracing the ridges of the key with her thumb.

“Remember,” he started, sitting at his desk while maintaining eye contact with her. “You said you could feed my fish while I go to Pittsburgh this weekend.”

Memories of a sleepy agreement dawned on her and she felt embarrassed for jumping to conclusions. “Oh, yeah-sorry,” she laughed awkwardly, feeling blood rush to her face.

A surprised smile quirked his lips upwards as he caught sight of her blush. “Did you think-”

“No, no. I just forgot. I’m still available,” she interrupted, not wanting to hear him say it out loud.

“Thank you, do you remember the address?” he asked.

“Hegal Place in Alexandria, right?” she replied, diverting her attention to her work.

“2630 Hegal Place, apartment 42,” he replied with a nod, seemingly pleased she was right. “Scully,” he added, prompting her to look at him.

“Yes?” she replied, looking at him expectantly.

“Are you implying you wouldn’t be interested in becoming roommates?” he joked with a wink.

Now, a few days later as she stood in the middle of his apartment, the answer would have to be no.

This was, in every sense of the word, a bachelor pad. She’d fed the fish after searching for the food for a minute, and had spent the rest of the last ten minutes taking a self-guided tour. She didn’t want to invade his privacy…she was just curious.

A framed basketball jersey, an odd affinity for Aztecian home decor, a refrigerator filled with expired foods and liquids, it was so stereotypically ‘man cave’-y that she couldn’t help but smile. She could see the quirks she’d noticed in the office manifest here. Being in his apartment, in some odd way, felt like being with Mulder. His sunflower seeds were in a pile on his kitchen table, surrounded by… copies of The Lone Gunman? She hadn’t heard about that publication, but he seemed to have quite a collection.

Not only were the traces of Mulder activity present, but she could still smell his cologne around the apartment. She chastised herself for how oddly comforting the whole place was. Minus the fact his bedroom looked like a storage unit for miscellaneous crap rather than a place to sleep.

When she’d decided she’d intruded quite enough, she went into the living room to grab her purse off the table but got distracted by the bottom row of his bookshelf - which was filled with something that didn’t quite look like books.

Upon bending over, she was met with:

Night Trips

Nothing to Hide

Debbie Does Dallas

Latex

The Opening of Misty Beethoven

In the Office

Her mouth dropped open as her eyes widened at the collection. Oh my god…there were so many. She wasn’t disgusted or anything, it was natural he’d want to…stress relief, but surely-

Well, actually, they never actually brought up if he had anyone. It didn’t seem like he had a girlfriend, sometimes she could tell he was lonely. She still regretted teasing him with “Unlike you, Mulder, I would like to have a life.” It hurt his feelings and she could tell. But, he was an attractive man. There was no denying that. Surely if he wanted to…indulge himself…it wouldn’t be hard for him to find someone who wanted to join. Even I-

She stood up quickly, breaking her own train of thought and shaking it from her mind. This is why you don’t intrude, Dana.

II

Usually she was pretty good at checking forecasts before they ran off to whatever part of the country Mulder dragged them to. This was not one of those occasions. She just didn’t realize how fucking cold it got in Indiana at night. It was only September. But heaven forbid Mulder warn her, he clearly knew to come prepared if his big warm jacket was any indication.

Mulder’d asked her several times if she was cold, but all it did was serve to piss her off more. They’d been snapping at each other since they got here and every little thing was just aggravating him. The flight was late, the witness stood them up, the police were treating them like jokes. He clearly was pissed off because he felt bad he’d dragged her there, and she was pissed off that he was acting like she was just following him around and that it wasn’t her assignment too or her choice to go there.

It was just a series of little things being blown out of proportion and it was even more frustrating being that they both could acknowledge they weren’t really mad at the other but they were too fucking stunted apparently to just apologize.

They’d been walking for a few blocks now, the 'three blocks over’ the sheriff had told them in reference to a diner was turning into fifteen, clearly either being wrong or a practical joke. Her jaw hurt from clenching so hard to keep her teeth from chattering. It was juvenile, but she didn’t want him to take her freezing as another lash of guilt to add to himself.

“Scully- he started.

“I’m fine, Mulder,” she replied tersely as she stabbed her fingers against the 'walk’ button.

She drew her arms into her chest in an attempt to compartmentalize her warmth, and then suddenly she felt something warm and relieving drape around her shoulders. She looked over and saw he’d taken off his coat to give it to her with a look of contrition littering his face. “Listen, Scully. I’m sorry I’ve been short with you all day.”

She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled them further in on herself, burying her face against it and internally reveling in the lingering scent of him still present. “I’m sorry too. I just don’t want you to think I’m some stray dog you brought along for the ride-”

“I’d never think of you that way,” he interrupted gently.

“Then stop saying you 'dragged me out here.’ I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t want to,” she told him earnestly.

“Thank you,” he replied softly, placing a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to help warm her up as they walked across the street. “I guess I’m just a little embarrassed,” he shrugged.

“Don’t be, they just don’t understand you,” she comforted, feeling exponentially better in the warmth of him.

“Well,” he sighed, rubbing up and down her arm as she bumped into his side from walking so close. “At least you do.”

III

“Wait,” she called out, stopping him as he turned to part ways in the middle of the parking garage.

He turned back around wordlessly, waiting for her to continue, and was surprised to see that she seemed more shy than she’d just been a moment ago. She started fumbling around in her purse as she talked, and as much as it was probably to find whatever object she was looking for, he was equally suspicious that she was avoiding eye contact. “I, um. I just thought that, you know, since we’re in so many stressful situations all the time that it might be convenient for you to have this.”

As if punctuating that last word, she pulled out something small and silver and extended her hand out to him. He held his hand out and let her drop something metallic into his palm. When she pulled back, he saw it was a key and he felt oddly proud of this display of trust. “Is this to your apartment?”

She lowered her gaze and paid a slightly ridiculous amount of attention to zipping her purse. “Yeah, I just figured that if I have yours it’s only fair that you have mine.”

“Thank you,” he smiled, pulling his keyring out from his pocket and flipping them so that her key would be right next to his.

“But use it wisely, Mulder,” she warned lightheartedly. “This isn’t an invitation for you to bust into my apartment whenever you please.”

“You’re no fun,” he teased.

IV

Should he leave? Does she know he’s here?

They’d been investigating a lead at a church and he lost sight of her. When he caught up with her, he found her kneeling at a pew with her hands clasped in front of her. He could see her lips faintly moving and he suddenly felt like he’d intruded on something extremely intimate.

Yet he couldn’t look away. It was touching, seeing her in her element, and in this moment he felt like he got a taste of what it was like for her to work with him everyday.

He didn’t understand it; on a fundamental level this wholehearted trust in one being to have complete and utter control in your life seemed overwhelming. It was the very same thing he fought against everyday, he couldn’t imagine finding any comfort and solace in it.

But yet he respected it because it meant so much to her. To her it was the backbone of her being, a guide for all she did. And anything that meant so much to Scully was important.

4He was watching her perform this ritual with practiced grace. He felt like it might have been intrusive, but he watched her lips move with rapt fascination. He saw the word 'mom’, he saw 'Bill’, and then he saw something that made his breath catch in his throat.

Scully prayed for him.

V

“Mulder,” he states into the phone, only to be answered with dead silence for ten seconds. He adjusts the phone against his ear as he turns his blinker on to switch lanes. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me,” Scully’s voice replied from the other end. She sounded apprehensive, but he figured maybe she was worried because he wasn’t usually late to work.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I’m almost there,” he apologized, turning onto the street of the Hoover Building.

“Oh… um. Okay, I’ll see you here,” she answered oddly.

Something was off but he wasn’t sure what it was. “Is everything okay? Did you need something?” he asked.

“No, no. It’s fine, nevermind,” she rushed.

“If you need me to pick something up for you I can, I promise it’s no inconvenience at all,” he earnestly reassured as he passed the entrance for the parking garage.

“Can you pick me up some-,” the last word she said was mumbled and he was curious if there was someone in the office she didn’t want to overhear.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

“Could you pick me up some tampons? I don’t have any and I can’t find a dispenser or a generous coworker and I really need them,” she mumbled.

Scully was asking him to do a personal favor.

Sometimes he felt like he unloaded so much of his own personal baggage onto her and she never asked for anything in return. In all honesty, they’d been partners for three years now, yet she was still a bit of an enigma to him. It didn’t matter to Mulder in the slightest that asking him was her last choice, he was just over the moon that she’d tasked him with something so important and not work-related.

“Of course I can. I’ll stop by Walgreens right now,” he comforted. He could only try to empathize with her situation and even then he felt like he wasn’t doing it justice. Was she in pain? Was she bleeding on herself?

He really didn’t know, but what he did know was that he wanted to do all he could to help her.

“Thank you, Mulder. I really appreciate it,” she replied.

“Don’t mention it. I’ll see you in a few.”

He lasted a minute in the aisle before calling her again. “At the risk of sounding like a stupid man, I’m confused,” he admitted.

“Usually there’s a feminine hygiene section next to the pharmacy-”

“No, I found them. I just found too many of them. What do the letters mean? Does it matter what color they are?” he asked, scanning the aisle filled with boxes adorned with women playing tennis on them.

He could hear her smiling and was glad to know his confusion was easing her prior self-consciousness. “Um, aim for getting the ones that say S plus, please. If you see a multipack that’d be great.”

He looked around and found a section dedicated to multipacks and there he saw ’S plus’ meant 'Super Plus’ and his heart went out to her. “Do you want Kotex, Playtex, or Tampax?”

“Whichever’s cheapest is fine,” she replied before quickly adding. “But no cardboard applicators!”

“Cardboard applicators?” he repeated, confused.

He heard her chuckle under her breath before informing him, “The part you put in to get the tampon in. Most are a smooth plastic, but some sadistic, cheap man invented ones with cardboard instead and they hurt.”

Well that man be damned. “Okay, how does a one hundred and twenty pack, equally divided between 'R’, ’S’, and ’S plus’, of Kotex with a plastic applicator sound?” he asked, grabbing the box.

“That’s probably expensive. I’m really fine with just the small pack,” she told him as he walked to the chocolate aisle.

“Sure. I have to pick up a few things, but I’ll be over in a sec okay?” he replied.

Kotex 120 Pack - $24.99

Midol Complete Symptoms 40 Capsules - $6.99

M&Ms - $0.99

————————————–

Tax: 3.42

Total: $36.39

On the way into the building he started to fear she’d be mad at him for getting things she didn’t ask for, but he felt confident in his decision when he walked into the office and caught her grabbing her side with a pained grimace on her face, her lips pouting and her brows furrowing in discomfort. “Hey,” he greeted gently, not wanting to startle her.

She jumped and immediately let go of her side and put on a brave face, making him worry how many times she’s hidden her pain in the past. “Hey, thank you,” she smiled as she took the bag from him, her smile turning into confusion when she realized how heavy the bag was.

He stuffed the receipt in his pocket as he sat down, trying not to make a big deal out of this. “Mulder,” she drew out, shifting the contents around the bag for inspection. “This is very sweet, but you really didn’t have to.”

“I know,” he shrugged, turning on his computer.

“How much do I owe you?” she asked.

“Nothing, they were giving stuff away for free,” he teased.

“Mulder, no. This must’ve been expensive. I-”

“Consider it a thank you for all the hard work you do even though you’re in pain. I don’t mean that condescending or anything, I just feel bad that you have to deal with this every month,” he explained awkwardly.

She smiled at him and looked back at the bag before gasping, “M&Ms!”

VI

“Mulder, I’m fine.”

He hadn’t even asked the question and he could already hear her curt answer. It was the same answer he’d been getting for the past month.

But she wasn’t fine, and it was obvious.

He understood it was hard for someone as private as her to open up, but he wished she recognized it was just as hard to have to sit and watch her get thinner, paler, and sicker everyday yet be expected not to care.

And that’s really all he could do. Sit and watch.

Which is what he was doing and how he noticed the way her body lurched while she was looking at her computer, eyes widening before standing up as all the color drained from her face. “Scull-” he began to question.

“I have to go t-” her words were only the ghost of a whisper, as if she didn’t want to actually give them a voice, but he still heard them.

She turned to leave but just as quickly turned on her heel and let her eyes scan the floor as she raised a hand to her mouth.

Oh

He jumped up and quite literally leaped into action, reaching an arm to the side of the desk she wasn’t on and pulling the trash can from the floor so he could pass it to her.

She snatched it out of his hand in her hurry and turned her back to him as she set the trash can on the floor, fell to her knees, and threw up. Her entire body was being wracked from the force of her vomiting, and he was at her side in a minute.

He grabbed her hair, focusing on the front and sides to avoid any strands falling and getting in the way. With his other hand, he rubbed soothing circles on her back as he whispered, “It’s okay, Scully. Let it out. Please don’t cry.”

He felt himself trying not to choke on the last words as he saw her lip quiver in between her now sporadic bouts of dry-heaving. The first two rounds were powerful, what looked like her entire, miniscule lunch coming up, but these last few were just strained sounds as her body tried to throw up nothing - which was all she had left.

Mulder took his hand off her back momentarily as he strained to grab his mug of water from his desk, eventually looping his fingers around it and pulling it down to give to her. “Here,” he offered as she sat up straighter.

She looked at the cup only, avoiding his eyes, and grabbed it with both hands before bringing it up to her lips and taking small sips. “It’s just a side effect of the medicine I’m taking,” she murmured softly into the cup.

He knew. Nausea, vomiting, fatigue, dizziness, confusion, weight changes, mood swings. He looked up every single piece of information he could find when he was able to read the medicine label one day. It was the only way he could bite his tongue when he saw her sway on her feet or ask the same question twice within five minutes or continue wearing her old clothes even though they hung off her skeletal body or when she managed to look him in the eye and tell him she was seriously fucking fine. It made it easier on him; She wasn’t dying, it was the medicine.

“I didn’t want you to see that,” she admitted and he felt like he’d finally taken a breath of fresh air after suffocating for weeks. She was being honest.

He watched as she untucked the trash bag from the can, bringing the edges together and tying them up to conceal her puke. “I want you to know I’ll always be here for you,” he told her.

She looked over at him and he saw her eyes were red, puffy, and wet. No tears had fallen, but they were wet enough to reflect her pain to him. The same pain he heard in her voice when she said, “I know you will.”

VII

He was a little worried when she wasn’t answering or returning his calls. His worry morphed into full blown concern when she wouldn’t answer the door when he knocked. Want to meet at my apartment at six?

They had plenty of time before they needed to be in Harrisburg, but it was unlike Scully to be late, even more unlike her to be unresponsive. He got out his key ring and found the one he seldom had the opportunity to use.

He timidly let himself into her apartment with his key, not wanting to evoke fury from his not-so-morning person partner. “Scully?” he called out, letting the door close behind him. All the lights were off, the only light streaming in through the blinds and making the dust motes in the air dance.

Surely she didn’t get the plans mixed up.

He heard a sound from down the hall and he followed it calling her name once more before reaching the doorway of her bedroom to alert her of his presence.

Oh.

Scully, his perfectly punctual partner, slept in.

The blinds to her window were pulled up completely so he could see her perfectly through the blue light of morning. He felt himself holding his breath in an unneeded attempt to maintain the serenity of the room as he tiptoed to the other side of the bed to get a look at her fully.

She looked so diminutive under the covers and he couldn’t believe that the little bundle wrapped in quilts was actually his partner. When he moved enough to see her face, he couldn’t help the smile that broke out onto his face. She’d kill him if she knew he thought it, but she looked so cute.

She was laying on her side and cuddling one of her many pillows, embracing it with her arms and draping her top leg over it protectively. For the first time in his life, he was jealous of a pillow. Her hair was unruly and puffy, but didn’t obscure his view of her peaceful face.

He froze for a second when he heard her make a sound, immediately realizing how creepy he’d seem if she just woke up to him hovering next to her. But instead of waking up, she just made a little sleepy whining sound and tightened her grip on the pillow, burrowing her cheek against it.

Her lips were parted as her usually stoic face took on an almost childlike innocence. He felt in this moment how he did looking at the little perfection in life - blankets of virgin snow, the surface of a lake without any ripples, dawn breaking in the distance on a cool morning. All made his breath stop as he couldn’t resist stopping and taking in the fleeting beauty.

He wished it could last forever, but he knew he had to be the one to wake her.

Easing down onto his haunches next to the bed, so they were face to face, he tentatively raised a hand and brushed some hair away from her face. It almost seemed like she recognized on some subconscious level that he’d done that because a small cooing sound of comfort escaped her lips as her tongue came out to lick her lips. He didn’t think he’d ever said 'awwww’ so many times in his head before as he had since entering this room.

“Scully,” he whispered, stroking her cheek.

He didn’t get a response so he moved to her arm, squeezing lightly, “Scully.”

“MMgoo'night,” she murmured, barely moving her lips and still deep in sleep’s clutches.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at that as he told her, “No, no, Scully. It’s morning. We have to leave soon.”

An adorable frown tugged on her lips as her brows furrowed - the first footfall in the snow, the ripple in the pond. “Five more minutes, please,” she begged in an uncharacteristically whiney voice.

“I have coffee for us in the car,” he prompted.

She must’ve actually registered him that time because her eyes started to flutter open, lazily flitting around until they landed on his face. He smiled at her sweetly in an attempt to prevent her from getting startled.

“Mulder?” she asked, sleep still thick in her voice.

“Good morning,” he greeted.

“Wha’s wrong?” she asked, raising herself up on one hand as the other came up to her face to rub her eyes.

As she raised herself, the quilt fell from her and revealed the tight tank top she’d been wearing as a pyjamas. She wasn’t wearing a bra and he wasn’t prepared to be face to face with Dana Scully’s barely concealed, perfect breasts so early in the morning.

“Uh, n-nothing. You just weren’t answering my calls and I was worried something was wrong,” he answered, clearing his throat and trying not to gawk as her body reacted to the cool morning air.

She looked confused and rolled away from him, craning her neck to presumably look at a clock on the other nightstand. As she did this, the quilt twisted in her legs and pulled down, revealing the bottom portion of her pyjamas.

Or lack thereof.

To add another thing that was just making this the best morning of his life, he just got an eyeful of Dana Scully’s underwear clad ass. She gasped and whipped back over to him and his eyes shot to the ceiling. “Oh my god, Mulder! I’m so sorry!”

“Y-you’re fine,” he assured as she jumped out of bed and inadvertently rubbed against him while running to her closet.

“We’re so late!” she rushed, the navy brat in her coming out. If they left right now, they’d be an hour early.

“Scully, take your time,” he said as he watched her grab a pantsuit at random and rush to the bathroom, trying his best to ignore the way her lithe body moved in the morning light. “Um, I’ll give you some privacy. I’ll wait out in the living room.”

“I’m so sorry!” she called out again to the man who felt like the luckiest guy alive.

VIII

She’d been asleep for the last three hours of the drive and only woke up because there were too many cars around them for him to avoid this particular pothole. Mulder tried not to stare as she did her adorable little stretches to wake up and orient herself.

She rubbed her eyes before quietly groaning, “Shit.”

“Hmm?” he hummed in recognition, internally rejoicing that he got to hear her swear.

“I forgot I was wearing makeup,” she mumbled, pulling the visor down and looking at herself in the mirror.

Mulder wasn’t sure what she was doing, but she was just making little adjustments and wipes here and there with her fingers. She looked under the visor to make sure they were at a red light before turning to him. “Do I look okay?”

He knew his answer before he even turned to look at her, but he pretended to have to check just to take the opportunity to examine her face. She was letting herself be on full display, looking directly at him and jutting her chin out, slightly rotating her head around so he could get the full Scully-experience. “You always look good,” he replied honestly.

She smiled, despite herself, and rolled her eyes. “No seriously. Is my makeup smudged? Does it look even?”

They just stared at each other for a moment, her trying to find signs something was off in his eyes and him just enjoying looking at hers. Taking a chance, he raised a hand to her face and cupped her cheek. He felt as much as he saw her breath catch as she remained totally still. He lifted his thumb and very carefully stroked the skin under one of her eyes. She looked up to, he assumed, give him better access, and it made him happy to see this small display of trust.

As quickly as it started, he pulled his hand back into his lap, and murmured, “Perfect.”

They both knew he wasn’t talking about her makeup.

IX

She should just give up. She finally tried to go on a date after an embarrassingly long dry spell, one that seemed to correlate perfectly to her work on the X Files, and she got stood up. Well, kind of. She was completely dressed and on her way to the restaurant, the one that required a monetary donation in order to get a reservation, and he decided to call last minute and cancel. No raincheck though, apparently his wife wasn’t fond of polygamy. Go figure.

For a moment she considered pulling over and having herself a good cry, just let herself have a moment to indulge in some good ol’ self-pity, but by the time she found a place to park, she found herself right outside Mulder’s apartment. It was funny how things seemed to work out like that.

She turned off the car and took a moment to look at herself in the rearview mirror and evaluate her situation.

One, she looked sexy right now. Hair, makeup, dress. She looked damn good.

Two, she would only lose out on the money she spent on the reservation. Insult to injury.

Three, Mulder would say yes. He loved food and he loved hanging out with her.

Four, she’d rather be on a date with him anyway.

But it wasn’t going to be a date. That’s what she told herself as she made her way to his door. She had been intending to go on a date, and now she was just hanging out with her best friend. No more, no less.

He opened the door on the third knock and his normal greeting of “Hey, Scully” managed to morph into “He-oh my god…you look…Scully, you look fantastic.” His appreciation of the hard work she’d put into choosing a dress made her feel somehow validated. Appreciated. She figured it had something to do with the fact that she’d been holding every dress up in the mirror and thinking about whether or not he’d have that very same reaction.

She loved being right.

“Thank you,” she smiled, pretending like the newly exposed tops of her breasts were something he saw everyday and that she wasn’t noticing the way his eyes were unabashedly roaming. She might’ve noticed if this was a date, maybe even teased him a little. But this was not a date. “I was just curious if you were busy tonight?”

“No, why?” he asked, and she ignored the hint of hope she heard in his voice because no one ever sounded that eager to hang out with their friends. Which is what this was.

“My mom tried to set me up on a date, but he cancelled while I was on my way and the dinner reservations are non-refundable. So, I was hoping, since I’m not going on a date anymore, if you’d want to just go grab some dinner with me?” she asked, hoping she managed to subtly emphasize her point.

“He cancelled? Was this a blind date?” he asked, incredulous shock in his tone.

She laughed lightly and walked through the door when he ushered her to. “No, we’ve actually met a few times. He goes to my mother’s church.”

She heard Mulder grumble something under his breath that sounded really close to 'what an idiot’ but before she had a chance to ask him to repeat himself he stated. “Of course, I’d love to go with you and salvage your evening, but if you’re any indication, I’m severely underdressed. Where is it?”

“It’s at Un restaurant français chic,” she told him, tucking a wavy tendril of hair behind her ear.

“I’ll go put on my suit,” he nodded, walking to his bedroom.

“Oh, Mulder, I really don’t want to put you out. You look fine,” she called out.

“Not when you look like that!” he replied, closing the door.

She caught her reflection in a nearby mirror and couldn’t help but smile. She’d done her eye makeup darker than normal, her hair was waved, and both served to compliment her face nicely. Her dress was midnight black with thin spaghetti straps, a heart shaped neckline, and a slit up the side, emphasizing her leg.

She looked good and she was glad he got to see it.

Within a few minutes, Mulder came out of the bedroom wearing what had to have been the best fitting suit known to man. She whistled appreciatively and he ducked his head and smiled. He stopped near her, next to the mirror to look at himself. “Do I look okay?” he asked, his eyes roaming aimlessly as they’d never fall on an imperfection.

“You clean up wonderfully, partner,” she confirmed.

He smiled and turned, but she stopped him with a gentle hand on his chest. Mulder looked at her wordlessly as she adjusted his tie, biting a smile as she watched his adam’s apple bob nervously under her touch.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Ready,” he smiled, leading her with his hand on the small of her back.

X

She was a strong, independent woman. She was resilient, she was self-reliant, and she was proud. She was the last person who would ever want to fall privy to the gender stereotypes often forced upon her.

But she couldn’t for the life of her figure out how to fix her goddamned sink. It’d been leaking for days and she just couldn’t figure out how to get it to stop. To top it all off, her apartment complex’s maintenance guy was creepy and she didn’t want him in her apartment - and her schedule was too hectic to call someone.

That left one option.

“Hey? Can you stop by my place after work?” she asked from across the desk.

He looked surprised, but curious. “Yeah, why?”

“I’m not asking you because you’re a man and I assume you know how, but because I know you’re a good problem solver,” she began.

“Wow, what a preamble,” he teased.

She rolled her eyes and explained, “My sink is broken and I don’t have the right tools to fix it nor do I understand how to.”

“Say no more, I’m your man,” he boasted.

He’d said that with so much confidence that she could barely believe her eyes when she walked behind him a few hours later and saw he was browsing the internet for 'How to fix a sink.’ He quickly clicked onto a different document when he noticed her presence but she pretended that she hadn’t been paying attention to him. She felt herself smile even though she was trying her hardest to repress it, that was just too sweet and so incredibly Mulder of him.

To say she was excited to see how this panned out was an understatement. She knew Mulder was a quick learner and eager to please, but, honestly, looking back she couldn’t think of a time she’d ever seen him do anything handyman-esque.

They’d agreed on seven and he showed up at six thirty. “I’m sorry I’m so early, I can leave and come back,” he apologized when he took in her wet hair and fluffy bathrobe.

“No, no, I just got out of the shower. This is perfect timing, come on in.” As he walked passed her, she admired his new outfit. He was wearing old, worn blue jeans with a heather gray t-shirt. It was a casual side of him that she couldn’t help but admire. He looked really good.

“Is it the kitchen sink or bathroom sink?” he asked.

“Bathroom,” she motioned. She followed him down the hall and flicked on the light switch for him. “Sorry it’s warm in here. I just got out of the shower.”

“It smells like you,” he replied. Then, as if embarrassed he said that, he teased her by playing mechanic, putting on a deep, 'manly’ voice, “So little lady, what seems to be the problem.”

Indulging him for once, she made her voice airy and breathy and, in a faux southern drawl, replied, “Well, my pipes just won’t stop leakin’.”

As if they realized the innuendo at the same time, they burst out laughing. “Okay, sorry. No-it just honestly is dripping everywhere.”

“Too wet?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes and slapped his arm lightly as he set his tool bag on the sink. She didn’t bring attention to the store tag she saw still attached. “I think I can take care of that,” he replied, pulling out a wrench. She wondered how many tutorials he read to know exactly what tool to use.

He bent down and opened her cabinets before turning so he was on his back, looking upwards. From her vantage point she could just see from chest down and it was an erotic sight she hadn’t anticipated. Most plumbers exposed their asscrack, but Mulder was letting his defined adonis belt peek out over his jeans and under his slightly raised shirt. “How long has this been an issue?” he asked, making conversation.

“About two weeks,” she answered, clearing her throat.

“Make sure to do it the right way this time,” she teased, suddenly remembering when he offered his help a few cases ago and how absolutely horrible that had worked out.

“Haha, very funny,” he chuckled.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” she smirked, watching him work.

“Why didn’t you ask me sooner?” he asked, accompanying the sounds of cranking.

“I wanted to figure it out. I tried to tighten it myself, but I think I just couldn’t get it,” she replied, watching the way his hips lightly thrust upwards from the force of his cranks.

“It looks like you were close,” he comforted, though she didn’t know if it was necessarily true.

“Thanks,” she smiled.

“Try the sink,” he told her.

She awkwardly tried to reach the faucet, but ended up having to stand right next to him while hoping her robe didn’t gape open and expose herself.

The sink ran and she heard him let out a triumphant sound before he hit her legs with his face. “Sorry,” she laughed, stepping back as he placed a hand on her calf to pull himself up.

“No, you’re fine,” he chuckled. Mulder stood up, a few wet stops from the prior drip blossoming on his shirt.

She hadn’t expected it to be so fast and she didn’t want him to leave quite yet. I mean he drove all the way here and all. “Want to stay for coffee?” she asked, tucking a wet strand behind her ear.

He smiled at her, clearly not having wanted to leave himself and nodded, “Yeah.”

[hannie-dul-set]

came down from heaven

— each and every human on earth has their designated angel to keep them safe from harm's hands. sadly, yn's previous guardian had to resign from protecting her due to some circumstances. so now, yoon jeonghan's taking over.

20 // heaven vs. hell

word count: 1,105

a/n: hello hello im back, bitches 😔💗💞 sksk did y'all miss my annoying ass being on your dash lmao (probably not but you rlly have no choice) anyways!! ily all pls enjoy 💗

<<prev | next>>

masterlist

---

"thank you, come again!"

the moment the customer had left your peripheral vision, your previous wide grin melted downwards. you placed your fingers on both sides of your cheeks, gently rubbing circles and letting out a long-awaited sigh.

acting fake was hard work— you couldn't comprehend how some people could pull it off every single day.

your hand reached towards the pocket of your jeans. you were about to pull out the god-sent object that was your phone but a sudden thought put you to a halt.

just a couple more minutes, yn. you breathed. just a couple more minutes til' jeonghan and ice cream—

the chime of a bell interrupted your thoughts and you let out a huff of air. you begrudgingly brought another fake smile to your lips and readied yourself to face another customer.

"hello, welcome! what can i get you?"

"a little bit of your time sounds nice."

your wandering attention was brought back upon hearing the familiar sound of a deep, resonating voice.

"what? did you forget about me already?"

your lips were brought into a curved smile. you leaned forward, elbow propping on the counter and your cheek resting on your palm. "of course not. it's nice to see you again, seungmin"

it was almost comical on how quick his grin dissolved and replaced by an evident pout. he furrowed his brows and opened his mouth— ready to fill your ears with a plethora of whines and complaints.

"i'm kidding," you laughed, eyes forming into small crescents. "welcome back, cheol."

he crossed his arms, looking at you with an obviously fake hurt expression.

"really? that's how you treat me after i saved your butt at the subway?" he scoffed. "talk about ungrateful."

you stuck your tongue out at him. "hey, you offered."

"and you accepted."

"well—" you started, ready to present your argument, but you didn't say anything (more like you couldn't). you pressed your lips together and let out a quiet 'hmph' in annoyance. "well played, seungcheol."

he winked at you. that damned bastard.

"so," you decided to just get this over with before he could torment you any further. "what would you like?"

at your words, he went into a thinking pose and stared at the menu located above your head. he was obviously faking it, probably just to get to your nerves, so you glared at him. all he did was laugh at your failed attempt at being intimidating.

you let out a huff of air, and he laughed harder, much to your chagrin. letting out a groan, you hollered.

"just hurry up and—"

"order already."

the both of your eyes widened, turning your heads towards the direction of the voice's owner (who was in fact, behind seungcheol for quite some time now).

there was a sudden brightness in your expression upon seeing the male.

"jeonghan!" with a wide smile, you beamed at him.

he didn't seem to hear you. instead, he and seungcheol were eyeing each other, a thick coat of tension filling the previous light air. their expressions were unreadable, and none of them uttered a single thing— that made you feel a sudden rush of nerves. do they know each other? i don't think so.

your eyes travelled back and forth from jeonghan to seungcheol. deciding that you could not handle the atmosphere any further, you let out a sharp and loud cough— making them realize that yes, you were still there.

jeonghan's attention immediately went to you.

"yn," he spoke, completely ignoring seungcheol as if he did just have a stare down with him a few seconds back. you wouldn't ask him about what the hell was that about— at least not yet. "your shift is over, i hope you haven't forgotten about our little get away."

your head snapped towards the wall clock situated on your left. 5:37.

"oh gosh. just give me a sec, han." you told the blonde. he gave you a small nod in response and then walked over near the exit to wait for you.

you let out a quiet sigh, hoping that seungcheol wouldn't be able to hear. "so, what did you want to order, cheol?"

"oh no it's fine you should get going."

"what?" you looked at him incredulously.

he chuckled. "go on, you friend's waiting for you. besides, you technically aren't getting paid to get my order."

"b-but it's just gonna be quick so—"

"yn."

you blinked. "are— are you sure?"

"holy shit, just go," he shooed you away, giving you a smile of reassurance.

you ended up scrambling out from behind the counter and into the break room. you hastily took off your uniform (which really only consisted of an apron and a hat) then made your way towards the exit. as you passed by seungcheol, giving him one quick glance.

are you really really sure? you mouthed. he gave you a thumbs up before diverting his attention to your co-worker to give his order.

you sighed in relief, marching towards jeonghan.

"you took your time," he mused.

"hey, i went as fast as i could!" you heaved, chest rising and falling from your shortness of breath. he placed his hand on top of your head, gently ruffling it while letting out a laugh.

"i could tell. seems like you need to work out, sweetheart." you slapped his hand away and fixed the mess that was your hair, continuing to give him your less than deadly glares.

"anyways," he opened the door and the jingle of the bell rang. "shall we go?"

"fine," you sneered. "but only for the ice cream."

"guess you're walking then."

"wait nevermind, i'm sorry—"

he gleamed, quickly pinching your cheeks to which you wanted whine in defiance but you didn't want to end up walking home.

"kidding," he snickered. "wouldn't want the princess to get tired."

you groaned, walking ahead of him. "you're tiring."

"you love me."

that caught you off guard. you stopped in your tracks and nearly stumbled, covering your pink-tinted cheeks with you hands. "y-you wish—"

"my wishes tend to come true," jeonghan passed by you, grabbed you by the hand, and led you to his car— all while you were still trying to recover from your augmenting embarrassment.

he opened his car door, gesturing for you to get in. "c'mon. what are you waiting for, sweetheart?"

"i— sorry," you squeaked and went inside, him following behind you.

the car ride was silent— minus jeonghan's constantly buzzing phone, but for some reason he wasn't answering it. you were finally nearing the ice cream shop when it finally dawned on you.

he was still holding your hand.

[thekpopcloud]

Write to love

Stray Kids Seungmin soulmate AU

Seungmin x reader, non-idol!AU 

requests are open!!

Soulmate Sign: You and your soulmate can communicate by writing on your skin, whatever you write on your skin will appear on the other person’s skin and vice versa.

(gif not mine! credit to owner!)

You were one if the luckier people in the world, you and your soulmate had a simple way of connection, through writing on your skin. The first time the connection showed up was on a weird day. You’d been at school when a you felt weird sensation on your arm, you looked down and almost screamed. 

There was a sentence scribbled down across your arm, one you certainly didn’t write, and it was barely readable.

You were prepared to roll down your sleeve and hide it when your friend looked over, she was just as shocked as you were, except she was a lot more vocal about it. 

“Y/N GOT THEIR SOULMATE MARK!!” She’d screamed to almost the whole class and suddenly, everyone’s attention was on you. 

That was simultaneously the best and worst day of your life. 

“I hate this damn thing!” 

Looking up from your revision book, you watched as Hyunjin tugged on the dark red ribbon wrapped tightly around his wrist. He was your best friend, since the day your were born. 

But he hated the idea of soulmates, absolutely despised them. He’d grown to hate the ribbon locked around his wrist, the ribbon that only his soulmate would be able to untie. 

You rolled your eyes at him, placing the pen down. “You say that everyday Hyunjin, maybe if you stop complaining you’ll meet our soulmate and they’ll take it off” 

The familiar sensation shot through your arm and you looked, a smile crawling onto your lips as you watched the words appear on your arm. It was your soulmate, Seungmin was his name. 

‘I’m starting at a new school today, help :(’

“You’ve practically got hearts pouring from your eyes...” He mumbled, clearly annoyed. 

Picking the pen back up, you scribbled a reply onto your arm. ‘Aww don’t worry Min, you’ll be fine :)’

“At least i care about my soulmate..” you spoke, shooting him a glare. Though you both seemed angry at each other the smiles on your faces said otherwise.

Before he could shoot a comment back, two people came barreling through the the library door and towards you and Hyunjin but not before giving the head librarian guilty glances. 

“What’s got you two in a rush this early in the morning?” You asked the tow boys, glancing between them and the clock on your phone. 

Felix crashed onto the chair beside you while Jisung crashed next to- almost on top of- Hyunjin.

“There’s gonna be a new kid in our class, I've gotta show him around” Jisung replied, folding his arms on the table and resting his chin against them. 

You mumbled a reply, not really too stoked about another kids joining your class. The feeling returned to your arm and you looked down, diverting your full attention to your soulmate.

Instead of a comment or anything, there was a somewhat detailed drawing of a sunflower on your arm. You bit back a giggle and scribbled down onto your arm. 

‘Did you get bored?’ 

Seconds later words began appearing underneath your own.

‘Yep :(’ 

“Y/N...are you paying attention to anything i’m saying?” Jisung asked, reaching over and tapping your arm. 

When you didn’t reply, he took a hold of the pen in your hand and pulled it away, you jumped in surprise and looked up. 

“Hey! I’m mid conversation! Give it back” You tried to reach for the pen but he leaned back in his chair and held it far from you. 

An idea popped into Jisung’s head and he smirked, sitting normally again. 

“Let me write something on your arm and i’ll give it back” He suggested, raising an eyebrow. 

Felix piped in. “Ooh me too!”

“And me” Hyunjin joined, his voice had an evil tone to it.

You sat back in your chair, genuinely thinking about it for a moment. “Ugh okay fine, if i see one inappropriate thing I’m replacing all of your’s shampoo with bleach” 

“You wouldn’t dare..” Jisung muttered as he grabbed your other arm and rolled up the sleeve, immediately starting to scribble down something. 

10 minutes and one aching arm later, you’d finally gotten your arm and pen back. The first thing you did was look down, eyes widening when you saw the amount of things on your arm. 

“How..what the...since when did any of you know how to draw so well?” You asked and admired the weirdly cool pattern on your arm. 

Felix, who looked very offended, slapped your arm lightly. “Hey! I’ve always been able to draw!”

“Your work in art class tells a different story” Hyunjin scoffed, resting his chin on his hand. 

The three of you started to laugh, minus Felix who crossed his arms over his chest and pouted, looking like a child.

Words slowly appeared on your other arm, making you look back down. 

‘How did you draw all that so quickly?’ 

‘I didn’t, my three friends did :)’ You wrote back.

The school bell rang, catching the attention of all of you. You quickly packed up your stuff and slid it all into your bag, swinging it over your shoulder. 

As the four of you left the library, Hyunjin appeared by your side and swung his arm over your shoulder, pulling you into his side. 

“You alright, Hyunie?” 

He forced a smile onto his lips. “Perfect” 

The teacher came into the class, her arms stacked high with papers and a boy trailing behind her like a lost puppy. 

He was a handsome boy, there was no doubt about it, his brown hair parted down the middle. Okay he was very handsome. 

You adverted your eyes, choosing to glance around the class. The fact that every desk was taken, the only free seat being beside you, seemed so cliche. 

“Class, listen up” The teacher spoke as she dropped the papers onto her desk rather aggressively, silencing the whole class. Even the new kid beside her jumped. 

“We have a new student joining us today, please make him feel welcome, care to introduce yourself?” She directed the last part to the boy. 

He nodded and bowed to the class. “Hello, my name is Seungmin, pleased to meet you all” 

Seungmin? no way... it can’t be...

You shook the thought away and propped your arm up onto the desk, resting your chin flat against your palm. 

“You may sit...over there!” The teacher smiled, pointing over at the seat next to you. 

As he walked over you looked behind you, shooting Hyunjin a look that screamed ‘save me!’ but he only laughed and shook his head. 

“Hello...” Seungmin greeted you as he sat down, you smiled and mumbled back a hello and shuffled your chair over. 

The teacher took out a folder labelled ‘PROJECTS’ and the class collectively groaned. 

“It’s projects or recreating scenes from Romeo And Juliet...consider yourselves lucky!” She stated, but still some of the class complained.

Opening the folder, she took out a sheet of paper and read over it. “For this topic, you and your partner must research a mythical creature and do a small paper on it, this will be 30 percent of your final grade” 

Mythical creatures...this will be fun

One the students called out. “Can we choose our partners?” 

“No, you will be working with the person beside you, and no it is not up for discussion”   

You glanced at Seungmin in the corner of your eye. He was slumped in his chair, toying with the hem of his shirt, upon a closer inspection you caught glimpse of a what looked like a drawing poking out from his sleeve. 

There’s no way he’s that Seungmin...no way..

The teacher was still speaking but you were paying no attention to her, too focused on the boy beside you, trying to subtly stare at him. 

Eventually, the teacher stopped talking and everyone was given time to discuss their projects. You felt a tap on your shoulder and turned in your chair, now facing Hyunjin. 

The first thing you noticed was the frown on his lips, he looked beyond annoyed. “What’s wrong?” You asked, leaning back in your chair. 

He motioned towards the person beside him, rolling his eyes. 

“Ha, you’re screwed” You laughed, speaking just loud enough for Hyunjin to hear you. 

He huffed and crossed his arms. The person he sat with was the worst person to work with during projects, she never did any work and did nothing but party. 

“Well good luck Jinnie, you’re gonna need all the help you can get” You commented, patting the top of his head before turning around. 

As you turned to Seungmin, he was already looking at you, making you jump. “Hi...” 

He giggled. “Hi, so erm...what should we do for the project?” 

“I don’t know, the teacher said mythical creatures so maybe...vampires?” You suggested, shrugging. 

Seungmin hummed and nodded his head. “Good idea, should we...do the work in the library?” 

“Yes, i don’t feel like doing work anywhere else..”

It seems like me and him are gonna get along..

“You can join us for lunch if you want to!” Jisung suggested enthusiastically, his arms swinging by his sides as he walked.

Seungmin held a rather large textbook close to his chest. “If it isn’t a problem...”  

Jisung shook his head. “Of course not!”

He walked ahead while Seungmin trailed beside you, walking slowly. You gently nudged his shoulder, catching his attention, and smiled. 

“Stick by me and you’ll be fine, I’m the only normal one left out of the four of us...” You stated, laughing a small bit. 

Seungmin snickered and nodded his head. 

The three of you rounded the corner to lunch hall and headed towards your usual table. Hyunjin saw you first and jumped from his seat, jogging over and practically launching himself at you. 

“That lesson is going to be the death of me! All my partner did was try and get me to come to a party on Saturday” He complained, putting all of his weight onto you. 

With him still basically attached to you, you stumbled over towards the table and let him fall into his heat before grabbing the last free seat. 

“So Y/N...any more messages from Mr.Soulmate?” Felix asked, his lips pulled into a smirk. 

Out of the group, Felix was the only one that had found his soulmate. It was one of the Baristas that worked in the schools coffee shop, his name was Changbin. 

You shook your head, reaching over to take a fry from his plate. Felix whined and smacked your hand away from his plate. 

The conversation quickly switched to something else and you slumped back in the chair, glancing down at your sleeve. An idea popped into your head, reaching into your coat pocket for a pen. 

Uncapping the pen, you stretched out your palm and brought the pen down. As it touched your skin you felt someone flinch beside you. 

Seungmin silently watched you scribbling on your hand, his attention was drawn to you until someone called his name, snapping him back to reality. 

He absentmindedly replied to what Hyunjin was asking him, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. 

It couldn’t be.... 

Seungminnie: My house @ 12?

You looked down at you phone, a smile grazing over your lips upon seeing the text. Seungmin had been at the school for a few weeks and you closer than ever. 

Quickly texting him back, you got changed and made yourself look somewhat presentable. You’d never put this much effort to look nice for someone else, but it was different with Seungmin, it wasn’t like you had a crush on him but it was something else. 

You rushed out of the house with your jacket half on and your bag swinging on your arm. Rushing down the stairs, you almost tripped and fell, if it wasn’t for the banister you would’ve landed on your face. 

As you speed walked down the road, your phone rang in your pocket. You fumbled around and looked at the screen before answering. 

“Hello?” You asked. 

“Y/N! What are you doing today?” Felix asked down the phone. 

“I’m going to get the final bit of this project done at Minnie’s house, why?” 

You could hear him shuffling around on the other end. “Binnie hyung wanted to know if you could come round and help him with a track. 

“Hmm maybe, we’ll see what time we finish working” You hummed.

“Are you gonna tell him? Oh please tell me you are!” He pleaded, you shook your head. 

“Tell him that i think he’s my soulmate? No way! Cause if he isn’t then it’ll make things hella awkward!” 

Felix sighed, you could picture him shaking his head with a disappointing look on his face. “Y/N...”

“No lix, i’m not telling him! Now go spend so time with your boyfriend, but don’t do anything i wouldn’t!”

He laughed. “Haha, alright then, bye!” 

You put the phone down as you got to Seungmin’s house, knocking on the door twice. 

The door swung open to reveal Seungmin. His hair was messy and he was dressed in a casual pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, a pair of glasses sat on his nose.

“Y/N-ie!!” He smiled, opening the door fully, You walked in and took you shoes off. Before you could speak Seungmin pulled you into a tight hug and rested his head against yours . 

You ignored the hammering in your chest, snuggling against him. “Seungminnie~ how are you?” 

“Good, better now that you’re here” He pulled back, looked down at you and winked. 

Shaking your head, you pulled back and patted his chest. “Whatever you say Seungmin. Now, should we get started on this work?” 

Two hours later....

“I swear if we don’t get a good mark on this i’m gonna have words with the teacher” You ranted, tapping away on your laptop. 

Seungmin laughed, looking over at you. “Now that is an argument i would like to see!” 

“Well...” you started, clapping your hands together once. “Arguments later, this must be finished first!” 

“Actually...i’m kinda hungry...” Seungmin trailed off, pushing his laptop onto the coffee table beside you. 

You hummed in agreement, taking your hands off the laptop. “Should we go and make food? or nah?” 

He shook his head. “Let’s order something, what d’you want?” 

“Let’s get pizza, give me the number of that pizza place down the road!” You said as you picked up a pen, a little idea popping into your head.

Seungmin started to say the number and you scribbled it on the back of your hand, when he stopped speaking you looked up at him and raised an eyebrow at him. 

“You alright min-”

“I had a feeling it was you, the minute i heard Felix say your name” He mumbled, looking down at the back of his hand. 

I was right 

He’s my soulmate

You jumped from your seat and wrapped your arms around Seungmin as tight as you could, he slowly wrapped his arms around you and held you against him. 

“I knew i wasn’t stupid, i knew it wasn’t just a coincidence” You mumbled against him. 

Seungmin pulled back and looked at you with confusion written all over his face. “What do you mean?”

“The fact that you joined my school the day my soulmate tells me he’s starting a new school? And the fact that there’s probably not a lot of people in the world called Seungmin? It had to be you” 

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you, staring at each other. The two of you slowly leaned in until your faces were inches apart. 

You took the opportunity and closed the gap, pressing your lips to his. Seungmin could feel his heart speeding up in his chest as he kissed back, his eyes fluttering closed. 

The kiss was short and sweet, still managing to leave you breathless as you pulled away. Seungmin pressed his forehead against yours as his eyes slowly opened. 

“As first kisses go, that wasn’t too bad” You smiled, looking up at him. 

Seungmin smiled, full of happiness at that exact moment in time. 

He’d found his soulmate, and his soulmate happened to be the person he was developing a crush on.

“We need a break from work, a date?” He asked, unable to stop the smile.

You nodded, retracting your arms from him and standing up. “A date it is” 

This was now the happiest day of your life.

[mactuna]

ᘻᖻ ᕵᕲ᙭101 ᕵᓰᑢᖽᐸS ᖇᘿᗩᑢᖶ!!

↠ summary: basically, how my top11 pdx101 picks would react to you getting hit on and 100% in ABSOLUTELY NO PARTICULAR ORDER!!!

↠ starring: kim sihoon, song hyeongjun, son dongpyo, ham wonjin, lee taeseung, choi suhwan, kim yohan, hidaka mahiro, kang seokhwa, wei zi yue, kim wooseok

𝒦𝒾𝓂 𝒮𝒾𝒽𝑜𝑜𝓃

You and Sihoon had been taking out your little brothers out to the arcade to just relax for a bit. But then, he had to go pee really badly, leaving you to watch the boys play Just Dance. Not even five seconds later once he was gone, a tall-looking guy appeared from literal nowhere.

"Hello, beautiful lady! My name's Eunsang. Care to tell me yours?"

"No. Goodbye."

Rolling your eyes, you diverted your attention back to your little brother, who was currently losing pretty badly to Sihoon's brother. To your annoyance, Eunsang moved again to block your view. Freaking stupidhead was obviously clueless on how to take a card of rejection.

"Not until I get your name, pretty lady."

"You are so-"

"ANNOYING!!! GET AWAY FROM MY SISTER!!"

Trying not to laugh, you let your six-year-old brother be your knight in shining armor, with his arms folded across his chest and frown on.

"I would just like your sister's name, little dude."

"I don't think she likes you very much."

"And I 100% do not approve."

Sihoon's brother joined in on the fun too, threatening to break your stoic facade.

"I think you should listen to them, dude."

Smiling at the familiar voice, you eased into the comfort of Sihoon's arm around your waist, looking up at his pouty face. Rolling his eyes, he pecked your lips before waving the other guy away. Who finally took the hint to scram. Once he was gone, you let out your giggles as the three boys hugged you tightly. Sihoon grinned, kissing your forehead.

"The other stupudhead boys won't ever get you while I'm still around!"

Laughing, you kissed the tops of their three heads.

"Glad to know I have three knights to protect me then."

𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓗𝔂𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓾𝓷

For the love of all things good in the world, all you had wanted was to get your ice cream in peace today. Was the world against you? 200% yes. Which is why you and Hyeongjun awkwardly stood in front of the cashier lady, who would not stop ranting about pretty you were and how much she would love to kiss you. The worst part was that you were both still minors so you couldn’t physically leave until she dismissed you. And there wasn’t anyone in line behind you guys either. So essentially you were doomed. But as the lady just kept on talking, you felt Hyeongjun’s grip of your hand slowly getting tighter and tighter. Looking out of the corner of your eye, you saw his lip beginning to stick out in an angry pout. Until finally, he took a deep breath to get all the oxygen necessary to counter the lady with his speech. With his dialect.

“Excuse me, ma’am? Please stop talking about my girlfriend like that, because it’s making us feel super uncomfortable. And as her boyfriend, I really, really don’t appreciate someone else talking about kissing her. Ok so, bye!”

Grabbing your hand, Hyeongjun basically dragged out the door and all the way to the park.

“Hyeongjun? Are-”

Falling onto the bench, he sat there breathing hard and looking stunned.

“Oh my god that was so scary. Oh, what we going to do?!! Did I seem manly?? Oh my god she was so weird… But that was so scary!”

Laughing, you hugged him tightly. Your poor baby looked like he was about to cry from being stressed about being manly enough to scare the weird lady away. Leaning closer to you, he kissed the side of your head and smiled with your next words.

“Yes Hyeongjunnie, you were very manly.”

“Phew!”

𝓢𝓸𝓷 𝓓𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓹𝔂𝓸

“Son Dongpyo?”

The nurse called out, scanning the room for the boy. Nudging him with you shoulder, you shook him awake gently.

“Pyo, it’s your turn to get checked out by the doctor.”

He woke up, looking super dazed and confused.

“Huh? What? Okay.”

Trudging forward, he disappeared behind the door, but not without a little wave.

“Don’t leave without me, okay? I won’t take too long!”

“Okay!”

With a soft sigh, you made your way to the espresso machine. You were in dire need of one since it was finals week. You were supposed to be studying at home, but Dongpyo was afraid of going to the doctor’s alone, so you had agreed to go with him. You were adding the condensed milk when a voice startled you.

“Hey, wanna make me a cup too?”

Turning around, you saw a boy that literally looked like a mix of literally all the visuals of all the idol groups that you could shink of, stood, looking blank minus the spark of hope in his eyes.

“Can I help you?”

“Um, I just wanted to get a cup of coffee. Sorry about that…”

“No worries! I’m Y/N. And you are?”

“Kim Mingyu. Thanks!”

“So what brings you here?”

“Oh, um, I came to drop off my sister’s lunch since she forgot it at home.”

You were surprised, to say the least. Because you knew that your brother would rather let you starve than make the 15-minute drive to drop it off. But before you could reply, you were snatched away, nearly dropping your beloved espresso in the process.

“Son Dongpyo! What the heck do you think you’re doing?!”

You glared at him, but his bear-like back hug wasn’t loosening anytime soon. The stupidhead wasn’t even looking at you, but was glaring at the confused boy in front of you.

“Ah, my mistake. Sorry about that! I’ll be going now…”

He quickly left for the other side of the waiting room, red in the face, while Dongpyo went to check himself out at the front desk. Tapping your feet impatiently, you waited until he finished before dragging him outside to talk to in a quieter hallway.

“Dongpyo, look at me and tell me what that was all about.”

He sighed, exasperated at your obvious cluelessness.

“Did you not see the way he was looking at you?! How his hand was inching closer to yours?! How he kept checking the door to see if I had appeared?! Obviously not! You know, I really hate that you attract so many people.”

You just laughed, finally understanding the severity of the situation in Dongpyo’s eyes.

“Well, you’re the only one that I know of where the feeling is mutual.”

“GOOD!”

𝓗𝓪𝓶 𝓦𝓸𝓷𝓳𝓲𝓷

Wiping your tears, you and Wonjin stumbled your way out of the movie theater.

“The ending was so good!! But now I’m also super sad about it…”

(A/N: btw the movie referred to is Avengers: Endgame)

Wonjin nodded, trying to pull himself together for both of your sakes. He hated that he cried super easily, but you just thought that it made him that much more human. It’s one of the many reasons why he had fallen for you in the first place: your ability to turn any negative thing into something 3000x more positive. But his thoughts were interrupted when three guys approached, all of them looking like models. The blonde one spoke up first.

“So me and my friends noticed you during that movie, and we were just wondering if you wanted to ditch your crybaby, loser boyfriend to come hang out with us?”

Wonjin held his breath, hands balled into fists, as he waited for your answer. What if you did ditch him? After all, you had three pretty boys gunning for you. He wouldn’t blame you at all.

“No.”

By the nature of their shock, it was easy to tell that these boys had never been rejected before. Rolling your eyes, you pecked Wonjin’s chin, which instinctly made him pull you closer.

“He’s more than I could have ever asked for, so I suggest that you three should leave before I call security.”

Taking the hint, the boys scoffed and sauntered away. As annoying as it was, they still looked like models in the process. But once they were gone, Wonjin’s protective instinct finally appeared.

“Oh gosh… are you ok?! I’m so sorry… I should’ve done move to help you. You shouldn’t have had to-”

Cutting him off, you pressed your lips to his gently.

“It’s the 21st century sweetheart. You don’t always have to be the one protecting me.”

“But it would be more reassuring....”

𝓛𝓮𝓮 𝓣𝓪𝓮𝓼𝓮𝓾𝓷𝓰

“Trick or treat!”

Laughing, you opened the door for your dinosaur boyfriend.

“Oh? Does Taeseungie want candy?”

“YES!”

Laughing, you threw the whole bag of candy at him. Every since fourth grade ended, the two of you had gotten too lazy to go trick-or-treating, so it was your tradition to give out candy eat it in the most extra costumes and share tea. Rolling his eyes, he plopped down onto the couch with arms wide open for you to lean into.

“So, what do you think about Yuna’s pregnancy?”

You nearly choked on your M&M’s when he mentioned her name. She was your cousin, who was temporarily staying with you and your parents until her parents returned from their business trip. And neither yours nor hers knew about the baby yet.

“Shh!! Keep your voice down! My parents don’t know yet. Let’s just call it… milkshake for now.”

“Okay…? So what do you think about the milkshake?”

“I think she was being stupid for getting the milkshake so soon after graduating high school. She hasn’t even picked a major yet, so how the heck is she gonna be a mom?!”

He just sighed, rubbing your arm.

“That’s what I thought, too. But then I realized that it was her own choice, so whether or not she regrets it is something she has to live with.”

Right then, the doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of trick-or-treaters. To your dismay, it was some college freshmen. Aka, the boys from Yuna’s grade. And you knew exactly which one out of the four of them had gotten her pregnant.

“Trick-or-treat baby doll. But I’d like to make a special request for you as my treat.”

“Get away from my house.”

“And what if I don’t?”

Before you could even reply, Taeseung was getting out of his dino suit and pushing you behind him, phone ready.

“Lay a finger on her and I’m calling the cops. Please leave while I’m still asking nicely.”

The other boys ran for it, leaving Seungwoo standing alone on your front porch.

“You little boyfriend won’t always be around to protect you, Y/N. You better watch your back.”

Once he had disappeared, you slammed the front door closed with a relieved sigh, collapsing into Taeseung’s waiting arms.

“Don’t worry Y/N. I won’t ever leave you.”

Seeing him smile so gently at you made it hard believe the sheer amount of rage that you knew lay hidden behind it.

𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓾𝓱𝔀𝓪𝓷

“YES! I GOT A STRIKE! You better pay up, sweetheart.”

You and Suhwan had made a bet over 10,000 won on whether or not you’d be able to bowl a strike. And lucky for you, you had made one in your last set.

“Fine….”

Grumbling, Suhwan stole a peck from you before handing over the money. Much to your annoyance.

“Hey! That’s not fair! You aren’t allowed to get a prize for losing!”

Laughing, he stole another kiss from you. Much to your disadvantage, he knew that most of the time, you would give into his kisses.

“I hate you!”

“Love you too sweetheart!”

Right before you guys returned your shoes, he planted another huge kiss on your lips.

“EW! SUHWAN! Don’t be gross!”

The guy at the counter just laughed at the two of you as he put your shoes away.

“You guys are really cute, by the way.”

You smiled, touched.

“Why, thank you!”

But Suhwan totally took it the wrong way.

“You callin’ my girl cute?!”

Rolling your eyes, you dragged your mumbling boyfriend away from the counter, despite his endless complaints.

“But-”

“It was a compliment, you buttface!”

He was being nice and you 100% took way too much offense to it.”

“But-”

Before he could start complaining, you quickly shut him up with a peck.

“Relax, I’m still yours. Ok?”

“Ok…”

𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓨𝓸𝓱𝓪𝓷

“YAY KIM YOHAN!”

Smirking, he winked at you playfully before the referee blew his whistle in annoyance to get his attention. Snickering, you covered your smile behind one hand while all the other girls around you sighed with a hand over their hearts. They all believed the great Kim Yohan’s wink had been for them, but of course, you knew better.

“Hey baby girl, why don’t you cheer for me?”

Yohan’s competitor winked at you with a sly grin on his face, disgusting you.

“Uh, no thanks.”

“You will after this match.”

“Sure…”

But now you were afraid for Yohan. You knew that vengeance was a powerful emotion, and that combined with skill could be extremely dangerous for him. Already, you could see the arrogance building up in his competitor. Yohan was significantly smaller than him, maybe even scrawny. But you knew better than to underestimate him. But you frowned slightly, seeing the rage building up in him. Why? You hated it when Yohan got mad, partly because it scared you but mostly because you saw no reason for it.

“Yohanie fighting~!”

Your cheers just encouraged him to beat up his competitor even more as the referee blew his whistle to start the match. Before you knew it, his competitor was on the ground, Yohan standing victoriously over him with the referee holding his fist up in victory.

“KIM YOHAN… WINNER!!”

With a proud smile, he pushed through the screaming crowd, making his way towards you.

“Congratulations Yohanie- MPHM!”

Before you could get another word out, his lips were already on yours, quick and urgent. You were practically helpless in his capable hands, or rather, lips. Shielding you with his jacket, he dragged you outside through a back door that led to an alley where he had parked his car.

“Yohan, what’s going on?”

Huffing, he kissed you again, biting your lip.

“I really, really didn’t like the way he talked to you. Are you ok?”

“Yeah babe, I’m fine. What are your fans gonna say?”

“I care more about you than I care about what they think. So what does it matter?”

𝓗𝓲𝓭𝓪𝓴𝓪 𝓜𝓪𝓱𝓲𝓻𝓸

“Y/N GET DOWN FROM THERE!!”

You opened your eyes to see your boyfriend sprinting at you from across the park, as you still hung upside down from the monkey bars. You laughed, watching as he continued running, even after he dropped his phone. You were touched, to say the least.

“Y/N I’M NOT KIDDING!!”

“I KNOW YOU AREN’T BABE!”

As soon as he reached you, you released your grip and unhooked your legs, allowing him to catch you.

“Please don’t ever do that again.”

“He’s right, sweetheart! You don’t wanna mess up your pretty little face!”

“Talk like that about my girlfriend one more time and I WILL KICK YOUR ASS!”

The boy on the bench smirked, seemingly at ease.

“Or what, short stuff?”

Setting you down gently, Mahiro took off running after the boy, much to your dismay. Surprised, the boy literally ran for his life.

“MAHIRO GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!”

“BUT-!”

“NOW!”

Rolling his eyes, Mahiro made his way back to you.

“But I really don’t like what he said about you…”

“Then ignore him and focus on me, ok? We are fine. I am fine. And I’m your girlfriend. Not his.”

“Ok that’s fair.”

𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓴𝓱𝔀𝓪

“AH! OH MY GOD! KANG SEOKHWA I HATE YOU!”

But all Seokhwa could do was just laugh at your pure terror and misery in the haunted house. He was afraid of a lot of things, like losing you, but things like this? Not so much.

“Haha, you are such a scaredy cat!”

“SHUT UP! OH MY GOD IT’S A CLOWN!”

The clown jumped out, waggling its fingers at and grinning widely at you.

“HI THERE BABY DOLL!! COME PLAY WITH ME!! I’LL TAKE CARE OF YOU!!”

You were too terrified by its appearance to do anything but cling to Seokhwa’s arm, hands over your ears. Meaning that you were totally deaf to the world and had no idea what he had said to you. But Seokhwa, on the other hand, was ready to beat the living shit out of him.

“Try saying that ONE MORE TIME to my girlfriend and I’ll kick your ass to YG’s compound!!”

The clown cackled, running away to scare someone else in the haunted house. Whimpering, you looked up at Seokhwa.

“Is it gone?”

Seeing you so scared made him feel like it was his obligation to protect you at all costs, especially from other preying guys. Particularly clowns and anything else that scared you. As soon as you were near the exit, he kissed your forehead, smiling gently.

“I promise I’ll protect you princess, don’t worry.”

“Protect me, my foot.”

“Hey! I promised!”

𝓦𝓮𝓲 𝓩𝓲 𝓨𝓾𝓮

“Here you go, miss! Have a great day!”

“You too, thanks!”

Grabbing yours and Ziyue’s cups of bubble tea, you made your way back to the table.

“Here you go!”

“Thanks Y/N! Wait, what is that?”

Grabbing your cup, he turned it around to see the note on the back:

call me soon, doll ~ (123) 456-7890.

Before you could stop him, he was ripping the label off your cup and tossing it away, before slouching back into his seat with a pout on his face. Rolling your eyes, you kissed the top of his forehead.

“What are you so worried about?”

“I hate other boys. Especially the ones that hit on you.”

“Well, that’s not the worst thing in the world to hate. But it’s not like it’s ever going to affect me, ok?”

“Good. But come here, there’s something on your face.”

“Where?”

“I’ll get it, you dumb cutie. Come here.”

Frowning at the nickname, you leaned in closer so he could brush off whatever was on your face. But to your surprise, he locked lips with you instead, keeping you in place by cupping your face gently in his hands. When you finally pulled apart, all you could say, was:

“Wow…”

“Wow is right sweetheart.”

𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓸𝓴

“Hey, I’ll be right back, ok? Stay here, whatever you do, please?”

“Okay, I got it.”

You watched as your boyfriend practically tripped over himself getting off of the bar stool, before smoothly making his way through the crowd to get to the bathroom. Hiding a giggle behind your hand, you turned back to the bartender, who served you up another shot.

“This one’s on the house, courtesy of the other guy down there.”

Craning your neck, you looked to see a guy waving with a lopsided smile on his face.

“Ah, say thank you to him for me, but please tell him that I already have a boyfriend.”

“Will do, miss.”

And right then, your lovely boyfriend appeared.

“Which is me. And I don’t like him.”

“Wooseokie, don’t do something stupid. Please?”

“Ok fine, I won’t bust his head. What do you expect me to do, instead?”

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed his arm and started dragging him through the crowd, out the door.

“Ok, you’re drunk sheep. Let’s go.”

“Mary? Is that you?”

Smiling, you pecked his lips gently.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go home.”

“But I want to beat up that guy~!”

“Too bad.”

________________________________________________________________

A/N: with their recent performances, this bias/pick list is bound to change so soon XD

[seenashwrite]

Some Dean

Word Count: 4K Category: One-shot, On-The-Hunt, Humor, Creature Feature, Behind-the-scenes Canon-Compliant, Teamwork, Friendship… and, to hell with it: Fluff Rating: Teen & Up Character(s): Dean, Sam, Cas Warnings: None Anti-Warning: There’s no images or links to anything creeptastic below the cut, those of you with squicks/phobias need not worry, I’m not that big of an a-hole Author’s Note(s): *This is a re-post minus tags & links in an effort to get it to show in searches*; if you’ve no knowledge of the children’s story “Charlotte’s Web”, this may not be for you; more post-story Overall Summary: Sometimes good things come in small, albeit eight-legged, packages.

Dean had always liked spiders.

Well, “like” may’ve been overstating; Dean had always held an appreciation for spiders. They weren’t nasty like rats or sneaky like snakes, with spiders you knew where you stood: in his experience, anything supernatural aside, you leave them alone, they’ll leave you alone. Plus, they were badass - spiders packed a lot of intimidation into a small package, could be killing machines when they wanted to be, and mostly he appreciated that they were efficient and effective when it came to dealing with the annoying bugs that occasionally popped up. He did live in a basement, after all; the world’s tiniest were not deterred by any amount of warding or weaponry.

So when he’d notice small, barely-there wisps of webs in far corners or between the bottom of a bookshelf and the wall, stretching from the carved wood to the sticky bricks, he’d leave the homemade traps be for a week or two if they were empty, and sure enough, they’d have captured some crawlers next time he made a run-through with the vacuum. It was an amicable relationship - Dean never saw the spiders, just their handiwork, and the webs seldom popped up in the same space twice. Plus, they seemed to know the kitchen was a no-fly… spider… zone, so all was well.

And then came Charlotte.

Charlotte - as Dean had eventually started calling the garden spider, much to Sam’s dismay - did not have any regard for the out-of-sight, you-don’t-get-the-boot arrangement, nor did she have any regard for giving Dean his space. The day they met, he’d sauntered into the garage, popped the Impala’s trunk, tossed in a bag and a shotgun, yelled at Sam to hurry up, then went to reach for the driver’s side handle, caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and froze. And he wasn’t the only one.

The web was thick at the edges and delicate in the middle, stretching from the side mirror to the handle, upon which Charlotte perched, her crafting put on hold. She wasn’t terribly small, but not remotely large; she would’ve easily fit on the pad of his thumb. And she was clearly of the brave - or stupid, perhaps - sort, because she didn’t immediately scurry off. She took in the sight of the giant creature before her - technically, there was eight of him, what with her four pairs of eyes and all - and she opted to see what would happen.

What happened was that Dean turned, grabbed a shop rag, and began cursing under his breath as he whipped the web into nothingness; by the time he stopped, Charlotte had skittered to places unknown.

Dean tossed the rag away, gave the handle a good eyeballing before he grabbed it, opening the door and saying in a low voice through grit teeth, “Not. The. Car.”

“What not the car?” asked Sam, bounding up the garage steps.

“Nothing,” Dean replied.

This nothing continued for six weeks.

Charlotte was a determined artist, it seemed, not to mention a fast one. She spun webs of all sizes and shapes, covering the license plate in quilt-panel squares, weaving long, ropy trails around and between the wipers, and at one point obscured the back window in a lacy pattern that Castiel noted looked like a fine guipure. She liked to travel, too, as more than once the brothers would exit a given roadside motel room to find Charlotte had been busy during the night, Sam’s personal favorite being when she’d decorated a hubcap in a complex Fibonacci design, though he’d never have let on to Dean.

On the initial occasions following such a discovery, if Dean happened to spot her, he would scold her with a sharp “NO!”, walk in her direction briskly, and she’d retreat, slipping into the trunk or under the hood, but it wasn’t long before she’d stay put, even edge closer, cutting the distance between them, eventually so bold as to crawl onto the roof of the Impala, watching as he dismantled her webs.

“Really?” he asked one morning after the latest wipe-down, bending slightly so they were eye-to-eyes.

She calmly extended one leg to the side, held it out til he got the hint, turning his head, following what he’d presumed was a point, and sure enough, he’d missed some cottony puffs that were still stuck on a tail light.

Looking back at her, he said - begrudgingly -  "Thanks.“

Dean had dealt with stranger things.

"One day I’m expecting to come out and see ‘terrific’ in a web,” Sam commented during a return trip from the latest hunt.

“What?” Dean asked.

“You know - the kid’s book. Charlotte’s Web. You read it to me when we were little. About the farm, and saving Wilbur the would-be bacon?”

“Charlotte’s anti-bacon?”

“No, I don’t think— it was— it— she was just pro-pig.”

It was after this conversation that Dean took to calling their frequent tag-a-long Charlotte. To be specific, it was after he’d brought a BLT with him into the garage while working on the car, and she’d happily investigated a bit of bacon that had escaped his plate. A point to the pro-bacon column, he thought.

Dean informed her that he was fine with her hanging around, he was even fine with her fancy webwork, but she needed to cool it when it came to the car, explaining with lots of gesturing to make sure the message got across, just in case. He’d looked it up. Spiders did not have ears.

He’d also looked up things on spider life spans, and arachnid health in general. Sam found him in the library one evening doing just that, frowning at his laptop screen as he scanned. Castiel was nearby, returning some books to their places on the shelves.

“What is he doing?” Sam asked in a hushed voice, and Castiel opened his mouth to respond, but Dean spoke, diverting their attention.

“Did Charlotte look pale to you earlier?”

Now Sam frowned. “Dean… what?”

“I mean, she’s light brown, but she looked a little yellow earlier,” Dean explained, scrolling further down a page, but then closing the window with a huff and turning in his seat to face Sam. “Can’t find anything.” A pause; a thought. “Hey, I should put out a devil’s trap drawing for her, maybe a new pattern’ll perk her up.”

Sam was, in a word, startled. “Do you think of her as a pet?”

“Why do you care?”

“Oh, I dunno - because a spider is stalking us, and you’ve named it, and you talk to it, and—-”

“What, you got a thing about spiders to go with your thing about clowns, even though your imaginary friend was a clown?” Another pause. “Come to think of it, that explains a lot.”

“Sully’s not a clown, and no, I do not have arachnophobia, what I do have is a worry that - if it is a female - it may lay a bunch of eggs, then we’ll have an infestation. Is that what you want? Bunch of spider babies in your Baby?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “She’s not gonna do that.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “Did she pinky swear?”

“Would you like me to have a look at her?” asked Castiel, and the concern in his voice was less for Charlotte and more for Dean, and less in the sympathetic way and more in the tiptoeing around someone who’s slipped into psychosis way.

Sam crossed his arms. “Taking it outside hasn’t worked, neither has trying to leave it wherever we’ve been hunting - this is getting ridiculous, will you just kill it, already?!”

Dean stood, walked over to him, defiant. “We not been doing enough killing for you lately?”

“It’s just a spider, Dean!”

“I know that! Maybe I just don’t wanna be scraping moist spider guts off my boot.”

“Does this spider communicate with you?” Castiel asked, the concern still floating under his words.

He was ignored.

“It’s not your pet, it’s a tiny insect - you don’t even know if it could be poisonous!” Sam exclaimed.

“Not an insect, genius, and Charlotte would never bite us—-”

“What is wrong with you?!”

“Have either of you considered the possibility that this is no ordinary spider?” Castiel suggested.

“Gee, thanks, Cas - no, hadn’t noticed that this is weird,” Dean shot back with a look.

“So you get that this is weird?” Sam checked.

“Our life is weird, what’s some more? And at least this is fun weird, is that so bad?” Dean replied, and the touch of melancholy in his voice caused both Sam and Castiel to stay quiet for a few moments.

The silence was broken by the ring of Dean’s phone - a case awaited them.

And, of course, Charlotte.

Dean looked up from the map as Sam came back into their motel room, six pack in one hand, phone in the other, kicking the door shut as he spoke.

“Jane called. She says a container ship from the UK was bringing in illegal cargo, for some rich people who wanted exotic animals for canned hunts—”

“Douche move.”

“—and apparently when they went to unload, the crates were all busted up. The hold was covered with what was left of the bodies of the animals. All except for one. Three guesses.”

“Big bad bacon?”

“Yup. And she thinks we’re looking at… ah….” Sam trailed off and chuckled.

“Yeah?”

“A cryptid. It’s called The Beast of Dean, a.k.a. the Moose Pig.”

“Why do I think that somewhere, somehow, whatever’s left of Crowley just got a chub.”

They were in a rural area of Virginia, not too far from Portsmouth, and had been for a week, tracking what sounded like a rabid boar, but there was enough of a bump-in-the-night bend to the word on the street that they’d been confident it fell in their wheelhouse. Now that they had confirmation, after a night of research and weapon prep, they were ready to knock out the most recent mission and get back home. The Dean-Moose was large, and it was anything but subtle. The hunt should be an easy one, wouldn’t take long, nothing to it.

Well. One thing. One sort-of big thing. Even though it was also a small thing. Sam’s pro-pig storybook spider and their companion, they’d come to find, had more in common than just a name.

.

STOP

.

There, stretched across the Impala’s grill the next morning, was an undeniable message, and given Dean’s jaw-dropped state, it prompted Sam to speak on his behalf.

“Um, Charlotte? Listen, I don’t know if you… you seem nice, and… really smart, but… look, this thing isn’t like that pig in the book.”

“Because she’s read the book,” Dean said sarcastically, breaking out of his stupor and stomping over to the car, sharp eyes looking for the sassy spider; no joy. “Hey, guess what?” he said loudly. “I’m gonna drive so fast that by the time I do stop, your web’s gonna get shredded, how do you like that? I told you my car was OFF LIMITS!”

With one last glare at the web, Dean got into the car, and Sam followed suit. They put on the radio and chatted about anything but spiders and pigs for the better part of an hour as they bumped along the winding back roads. And after parking at the edge of the woods where the most recent sighting of the beastly hog had occurred, they opened the trunk to find another message, one that unfurled neatly, springing open as the lid of the weapons compartment lifted.

.

REALLY! STOP, STUPID.

.

Punctuation, and all.

“You know…” Dean began, but trailed off with a shake of his head, snatching up the shotgun and pocketing a handful of the shells with the special filling he and Sam had cooked up the night prior.

Sam removed the freshly-etched-with-symbols machete. Dean slammed the trunk shut. Charlotte did not emerge.

As they walked deeper and deeper into the woods, Sam spoke in a quiet voice.

“When we get back, I’m calling Cas. This is out of control, Dean. The spider’s obviously somebody - or something - dicking around with us. Maybe that’s been the plan, keeping us from killing this thing.”

Dean didn’t look at him, rather kept scanning their surroundings as he responded. “Maybe. She… it… came around before that ship got here. But, yeah. Maybe something’s up.”

Sam reflexively sighed in relief, and at that moment Dean stopped, extended his arm to stop Sam’s progress, as well.

“Shhh. Listen.”

The growl was only audible for a moment before the foliage began to stir.

The hunt, it turned out, did not last long. The defeated brothers wearily tossed their dented weapons into the backseat and practically fell into the front. Dean immediately turned off the radio - the chanting of Duran Duran’s “Wild Boys” had come screaming through the speakers.

“It does kinda sound like they’re saying 'wild boars’,” Sam noted.

“Shut up.”

After they’d returned to the motel and showered, cleaned up their scratches and cuts, swapped torn clothing for intact, Sam went back to researching, while Dean went out to the Impala, damp washcloths in hand, and opened the trunk. It was barely even six o'clock, and there was still enough sunlight that he could see every trace of the webbing was gone. But he wanted to check that his little - former - friend hadn’t done anything else.

She had.

Sitting in the driver’s set, Dean’s eye was drawn to the thin, nearly opaque message across the radio, anchored by the knobs and an ejected tape.

.

BAD JOB

.

Dean swiped it away without a word, uttering a small groan and clutching his bruised ribs as he climbed out. He took a few steps, but then pivoted. He opened the door again and leaned in, voice tense as he spoke.

“Tell you what, how’s about I bring you some toothpicks and you join in tomorrow, help us out, get in a few stabs? Be useful, show us how it’s done?”

Dean fell asleep wondering if he’d completely lost his mind.

.

THIS IS DUMB .

Sam ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes - he’d been out the door first, so the newest message, covering the entirety of the hood, immediately made him brace himself for what was coming next.

But, surprisingly, Dean kept his temper in check; he merely set down his bag, returned to the room for a towel, and briskly wiped down the hood.

“Ready?” he asked Sam, forcing a smile that was likely more unsettling than intended.

Sam kept quiet, answering with a thumbs-up.

Their Everything’s Fine! charade was short-lived.

As with the prior morning, Charlotte had chosen to reinforce her message, wrapping the steering wheel so thickly it was barely visible, and her stance on their mission came through loud and clear.

.

THIS IS ACTUALLY DUMB .

Sam thought the choice of having the final “dumb” in bold italic for emphasis was a nice touch. And he noted the copious amount of webbing wound around the gear shift with raised eyebrows. And he gulped when he spotted more strands of said webbing emerging from the ignition. He cut his eyes over to Dean and, upon seeing his expression, took a step back.

This time, Charlotte did not hide. She’d positioned herself on the dashboard, right near the puffed-up wheel, standing with what could be described as quite the petulant posture. And much like the day the spider and the hunter had met, Dean froze.

Charlotte held her ground.

Dean’s nostrils flared.

Charlotte crossed her front legs as if they were arms.

Dean’s jaw clenched.

Charlotte tapped a back leg, as if to say Well get on with it.

Dean was still unmoved, and so Sam said, “You know, when you freeze like that, it’s really not as intimidating as you might—-”

“CHARLOTTE!” Dean bellowed.

She turned and sashayed to the glove box, crawling inside without the first indication she felt in any danger whatsoever.

Thankfully, the motel was just shy of a mile from from a modest gas station-diner combo. Sam talked Dean into a breakfast - with extra bacon, a thumb of the nose to both the beast and its defender. After they easily convinced the owner to loan them his truck, explaining their car’s fuel gauge was apparently broken, buying a can of gas for show, they promised they’d have it returned to him by morning.

As they drove back to grab their gear, Dean asked, “You hear from Cas?”

Sam nodded. “Reception’s crap, though - I can only hear parts of his voicemail. He found something about Charlotte, at least, I think. But he didn’t sound upset, like she was dangerous.”

“Let’s just roast the pig and get the hell outta here.”

“I’m sorry she’s not… you know, fun-weird anymore,” Sam said.

Dean lowered his foot, gunning the engine. “Yeah, well. Story of my life,” he muttered.

The truck was returned way before morning, this encounter with their newest foe having gone as well as the first. Then they found that Charlotte had removed all the web from the Impala, though the door to the motel room held some snark:

.

NICE HEAD

.

Dean barely glanced at it - possibly a little hard to do with the near swollen-shut, a breath away from blackened eye - and didn’t even bother to clean it off. There was no message from Charlotte the next morning. Dean did bother to wonder if she was gone.

The sound of the tree cracking sent both of them diving behind a small knoll, gasping for breath, cringing as it crashed down just where they’d been not seconds earlier.

“I’m empty,” Dean said, returning his gun to his waistband. “You?”

“About ten minutes ago,” Sam answered.

The beast’s growls now turned into a piercing scream, a most furious howl, angry it couldn’t find them. They heard it turning up earth with its tusks, sending rocks flying, then ramming its head into yet another tree, the trunk buckling under the strain. Dean had managed to send a bullet into its snout, likely preventing it from sniffing them out, if the occasional gurgling snorts were any indication. Sam had earned himself a minor goring to his calf, but otherwise they were intact.

“Think you can run?” Dean asked, gesturing to the bandanna-wrapped wound.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, I think so. That the plan? Just make a run for it?”

“You got any better ideas?”

“On three?”

“One… two…. three!”

They dodged trees, though the beast didn’t bother, taking out the smaller ones along the way, picking up speed with every moment that passed, while the brothers were losing speed at the same time.

Dean noticed a large branch in their path up ahead and started to veer off from Sam, pointing to it and yelling, “Keep going! I’ll try to knock Porky out!”

“No!” Sam yelled back, grimacing each time his leg made contact with the ground. “It’ll kill—- HUUUURMMPPHH!”

Sam went down, Dean not far behind, something tripping both of them, causing them to fall with such force that whatever air they had left in their lungs got knocked out. Disoriented, they raised their heads only to immediately duck them, covering up with their arms, as the beast was still plowing ahead. Its hooves hit the ground in between them, tossing dirt everywhere, its speed too far gone for it to stop on a dime. They expected to soon hear it reversing course, so Sam opened his eyes, trying to spot a place to hide, Dean doing the same, trying to spot the branch.

Instead, the sound of the most meek squeal one could imagine reached their ears, prompting Dean and Sam to turn their gazes directly ahead.

They were at the bottom of a small incline, and they watched as the boar’s head rolled their way, their heads slowly turning as they observed it leisurely passing by. It came to a sudden stop against something near their feet. They shared a look, moving in sync onto their knees.

“Uh, Dean?” Sam said.

Dean looked up from inspecting the severed head to find Sam with his hand extended, pushing under something that Dean couldn’t make out, but a shift in position and a tilt of his head allowed him to see the bright moonlight glint off the surprisingly thick, iridescent rope running across Sam’s fingers.

Another look, another in sync movement as they stood, then tentatively walked forward til they reached the body. This time, Dean spotted it right away when he crouched, the finely-wound strands that were stretched between two trees, at just the perfect height to relieve a squatty hog monster of its head. He flicked it with a finger, as one would a string on a guitar, and it was just as taut.

“She clotheslined it,” Sam said, awestruck. “She tripped us so we wouldn’t… That could’ve clipped us at the knees. She… she…”

Dean looked up at Sam, and a slow smile spread across his face. "She’s awesome!”

Sam shifted his weight off of his bad leg, and grinned. “Think she’s any good with stitches?”

How Charlotte managed to spin their salvation in such little time, they’d never know, and they also had no idea how she beat them back to the car, but the evidence was there, across the driver’s side window. .

SOME PIG .

They laughed, Dean saying, “You ain’t lying.”

But before he could say anything else, Charlotte crawled out from under the handle. She scurried up her web, and as they watched, she whipped the “P” into a “D”; the “I” went “E” in a few short passes; the “G” was partially dismantled, then spun into an “A”; and in mere seconds, there appeared an “N”. .

SOME DEAN .

After a quick hop from its tip, a slide to the outside of one of the long connecting end pieces, and a drop of a new line of silk, their eyes followed her as she leapt, letting the momentum swing her clean up onto the roof. And then - Sam would swear to it, many times over the coming years - she curtsied.

“Thanks,” Dean said softly. “You, too.” With that, he opened the back door, gestured for her to climb inside.

Which, she did.

“Yes… yes… that’s very kind of you.”

Dean, Sam, and Castiel were standing outside the bunker, the former waiting patiently - and occasionally impatiently - as the latter had a conversation with Charlotte.

Castiel looked to them. “She says she likes my tie. The material meets her standards.”

Dean’s expression was completely flat, causing Sam to snicker.

“There any reason you didn’t tell us you could’ve been talking to her this whole time?” Dean demanded.

Castiel shrugged. “You didn’t ask.”

It turned out that Castiel’s message had been to inform them that Charlotte was indeed a most special spider, more so than what they’d already divined. She was an emissary, an information-gatherer, a spy of sorts, though not a nefarious one. And because she herself was quite the accomplished hunter, she chose to spend time with other hunters whenever her journeys brought her to them.

And now, it was time for Charlotte to start her next journey.

Castiel was nodding his head as Charlotte, who was on his collar, near his ear, told him one last thing. “She’d like you to know that Sam was correct - she does need to prepare to lay her eggs, though she would not have done so in the car,” Castiel related.

Dean shot Sam a smug look.

“And she says she’ll name them Dean.”

Dean blinked. “All of them?”

“Yes.”

“How many we talking?”

A pause as Charlotte answered, and Castiel replied, “Anywhere from fifty to sixty.”

“That’s… a lot,” Dean said, because he didn’t know what else to say.

“Not really,” Sam commented.

Another look from Dean - actually, he cycled through several.

“Fine. So maybe I did some research, too,” Sam admitted.

“It’s time for her to go,” Castiel announced. “She says she’s enjoyed your company immensely. And she apologizes for the web you’ve yet to find. It seems she was in a cranky mood that evening.”

“That’s okay. Tell her it’s okay,” Dean said, walking closer. “Tell her that, um… it’s been great knowing her. Don’t be a stranger. All that.”

Castiel smiled. “She knows.” He raised his hand to his shoulder, and Charlotte climbed onto it. “I’m going to give her a boost,” he explained, and then to Charlotte he said, “Please do give Mr. Anansi the Winchester brothers’ warmest regards.”

They watched as Charlotte prepped a silk balloon, and after a gentle wave of Castiel’s hand, off she flew.  

“It would be… cheesy of me to comment it is angelic, their flight, wouldn’t it?” Castiel asked.

“Yes,” Dean and Sam answered in unison.

They began to walk back inside.

“What was that at the end? About Anansi?” asked Sam.

“Networking,” Castiel replied.

“I wouldn’t worry about us ever having to tangle with him,” Dean said. “I mean, not with Charlotte on our side. She’ll talk us up. She’s a talker.”

“Plus, there’ll be all the Deans,” Sam added.

“Yup. Exactly. We are cool with the spider kingdom,” said Dean, and with great confidence.

Dean was incorrect on this point, as he and Sam would later learn, during a case involving a young lady by the name of Muffet.

But that’s another story.

Want more stories? My Master Post is linked in my profile, and it tells you about getting on the Tag List, too! If for whatever reason it gives you trouble, don’t hesitate to send an Ask and I’ll link you.

Re-blogs and feedback are fuel for a writer’s soul - please do let me know if you enjoyed. 😘

Author’s Note #2 - The Jane mentioned is a character from my story Supernatural: Revelation, which you can find linked on the master post -or- just go straight to AO3, same author name SeeNashWrite 😁

Author’s Note #3 -  This also included a prompt which had languished in drafts - albeit with the note “Anansi” from the get-go, thankyouverymuch! - which was from the cringeworthy submissions:

You can find all the #Nash300 Follower Celebration Master List of Madness stories (wherein I asked followers to send me prompts consisting of three words to make me cringe) via the Master Post.

Author’s Note #4: The beast of Dean mentioned is actually a thing, give it a google! And so is Anansi, check that out, too. If you don’t get the Muffet reference, well, I can’t help you with that. 😉

[spamzineglasgow]

(SPAM Cuts) ‘The Following Scan Will Last Four Minutes’ by Lieke Marsman

Cover by Pavilion Poetry/Liverpool University Press.

In this SPAM Cut, Jane Hartshorn looks at the sociopolitical, ethical and poetic implications of representing illness in Lieke Marsman’s poem, ‘The Following Scan Will Last Four Minutes’, whose English translation by Sophie Collins you can read here.  

> Lieke Marsman’s poem ‘The Following Scan Will Last Four Minutes’ is included in her recent collection The Following Scan Will Last Five Minutes, translated from the original Dutch by poet and translator Sophie Collins.

> The book takes the form of ten poems, followed by an essay drawing on Marsman’s experience of cancer. Collins then reflects on the process of translation, written as a series of letters to Marsman.

> Marsman was influenced by Audre Lorde’s Cancer Journals, as well as Illness as Metaphor by Susan Sontag, and the themes explored in both these texts are interwoven throughout the poems. She writes, ‘The difference in the tone and approach of these two books is huge, and it gets me thinking. How will I relate to my own disease? Is this a choice?’

> The question of how to ‘relate to [one’s] disease’ is one those who have experienced prolonged illness must grapple with. Do we assimilate the disease into our sense of self, or do we reject it as an alien ‘other’? Like the abject, the disease is both ‘me’ and ‘not me’; inhabiting a liminal space between subject and object. Emerging from within us, but not completely of us, it blurs the boundary between self and other, disturbing the notion that our identity is cohesive, fixed, stable.

> Marsman herself describes this difficult and often conflicted relationship in the essay which follows the sequence, writing, ‘Sometimes I refer to my tumour lovingly as my grapefruit, while on other days I vehemently detest it and fantasise about breaking into the tissue bank where it is being stored, in strips, in minus eighty degrees centigrade.’

> This reflects Lorde’s relationship with her own tumour, in which she expresses anger at her right breast, illuminating the process of bodily dissociation illness can engender. She writes, ‘I had grown angry at my right breast because I felt as if it had in some unexpected way betrayed me, as if it had become already separate from me and had turned against me by creating this tumour that might be malignant.’ The notion of the body in revolt is one that emerges in many illness narratives, often staging the body as a battleground where wars are won or lost.  

> This tension between self and other, the familiar and the unfamiliar is a theme that runs throughout the collection. For example, in ‘The Following Scan Will Last Four Minutes’, Marsman’s italicisation of ‘chondrosarcoma’, the name of her condition, gives it a dangerous power; a word only to be uttered in hushed tones. This lends it an otherworldliness, a mythic quality, and hints at its ability to threaten existence. Although receiving a diagnosis for an otherwise elusive condition can offer a sense of relief, it can also have an alienating effect. Medical discourse employs terminology that is unfamiliar to the patient, and this can estrange her from her body. The sick person loses autonomy not only through the illness, but also through the depersonalising effects of the medical establishment.

> Within the theme of defamiliarisation, the poem also explores the banality of illness. Phrases like ‘the morphinesweet unreality of the everyday’ echo Woolf’s description of becoming ill, where she writes of ‘the undiscovered countries that are then disclosed’ ‘when the lights of health go down.’ The juxtaposition of ‘unreality’ with ‘everyday’ speaks of how diagnosis, and in fact, illness itself, can be earth-shattering yet mundane. In a later poem, Marsman writes, ‘cancer is so quotidian / you hear about it on Wednesday morning / die on a Tuesday afternoon.’ And it’s the inability to perform the quotidian, such as ‘doing laundry’ or ‘balling socks’, that underpins the experience of prolonged illness. Illness is notoriously difficult to write about, and one of the reasons for this is due to its overwhelming mundanity; it cannot be dramatised, or driven by a linear narrative. Furthermore, there is often no easy resolution, or return to a pre-illness self.

> Marsman was initially misdiagnosed; the pain in her shoulder was thought to be a repetitive strain injury. Her GP suggests she could ‘get a new office chair’ or ‘set an egg timer to ensure [she] take[s] regular breaks from working’. Partly due to the negligence of a number of clinicians, she is put on a two-month waiting list for an MRI scan.

> Having ‘already inserted [her]self into the narrative of an overworked twenty-something-year-old’, Marsman initially believes she has ‘burn-out’, and the medical professionals she visits appear to encourage this self-diagnosis.

> When we become sick, we imagine it will be temporary. Within capitalism, our body is understood as a machine; one that only needs repairing in order to return to its pre-illness state. We are taught to believe that our value rests upon our level of production, or our ability to perform within a results-driven workforce. Arthur Frank explores the commodification implicit in the restitution narrative, writing, ‘what will cure the body is a commodity, whether that takes the form of a drug or a service, and however it is paid for.’

> This model of the body as machinery feeds into a larger ideology whereby the sick individual is perceived as somehow culpable for their illness, whether this is due to bad diet, unhealthy habits, or stress related factors. Sontag writes that ‘psychological theories of illness are a powerful means of placing the blame on the ill’, thus diverting attention away from possible environmental factors, or genetic disorders.

> Lorde, too, considers this culture of blaming the individual, writing, ’The idea that the cancer patient should be made to feel guilty about having had cancer, as if in some way it were all her fault for not having been in the right psychological frame of mind at all times to prevent cancer, is a monstrous distortion of the idea that we can use our psychic strengths to help heal ourselves.’

> Marsman’s own response to her diagnosis chimes with this; ‘Have I thought too often about which songs I would like played at my funeral? Should I have engaged less in Twitter feuds? Are my jokes a little on the mean side? I’m seized, now and then, by a deep, old feeling of guilt.’

> We need to be wary of discourses of health and illness that implicitly apportion blame upon the individual. Whilst remedies such as mindfulness, yoga, acupuncture can be helpful, they should not be offered as alternatives to medicine. As public health services strain under the pressure of government funding cuts, and as hospitals are increasingly understaffed and under-resourced, our health is being sold back to us as a commodifiable object.  

> Marsman is also wary of this discourse, writing, ‘meditation and mindfulness are helpful in terms of alleviating pain and fatigue, but where does the pain and fatigue come from in the first place?’ She goes on to argue that relaxation techniques are often the last resort of those who have been failed by the medical establishment, whose symptoms have been incorrectly attributed to stress. The poem, too, reinforces this:

Do you know what life has to offer or did those endless therapy sessions and that eight-week mindfulness course simply teach you how to tolerate suffering that every signal in your body can be temporarily expelled to the rhythm of some breathing exercise?

This belief in the individual’s power to ‘cure’ themselves understands the body on mechanistic lines, placing a degree of responsibility upon the sick person for their illness, which can then manifest as guilt or blame.

> The sequence is prefaced by a quote from the Cancer Journals, in which Lorde writes,

Every once in a while, I would think, ‘what do I eat? how do I act to announce or preserve my new status as temporary upon this earth?’ and then I’d remember that we’ve always been temporary, and that I had just never really underlined it before, or acted out of it so completely before. And then I would feel a little foolish and needlessly melodramatic, but only a little.

Returning again to the question of ‘how to relate to one’s disease’, maybe, as Lorde suggests, we need to embrace this notion of temporality. If we can reframe the experience of illness, and regard it as an ongoing process of negotiation, readjustment, and management, rather than as one of loss or lacking, then maybe we can challenge the existing binary of health and sickness, and the notion of the self as a fixed, unified entity positioned at either end of the scale. Havi Carel’s concept of ‘health within illness’ is a more accurate way of describing the experience of chronic illness, as it captures its fluctuating, overlapping, non-chronological nature.

> Perhaps, then, it’s not only a question of how the individual relates to their own disease, but a matter of exploring how cultural perceptions of and attitudes towards illness shape the individual’s experience of illness.

> Marsman wonders if she is ‘experiencing this cancer as an Actual Hell because that’s how [she] genuinely feel about it, or because that is the common perception of cancer’. Both Lorde and Sontag attempt to challenge the taboos surrounding cancer in their respective texts, and I think that Marsman does the same in The Following Scan Will Last Five Minutes, critiquing the societal structures that work to ostracise and marginalise those with chronic illnesses.

> The Following Scan Will Last Five Minutes is an actively political text. Through examining her own experience of illness, Marsman situates this within a wider socio-cultural framework; she explains to us that her experience of illness has enabled her to see more clearly her position in relation to the rest of society. She deftly manages to flip the question of how to relate to one’s disease back to us, asking, how does society relate to illness, and is this a choice?

The Following Scan Will Last Five Minutes is available now, via Liverpool University Press. You can order a copy here.

~

Text: Jane Hartshorn

Published 8/12/19

[lunastwilightblog]

So I’ve finally had a go at writing a fic, so I’ll be really interested to know what you guys think of it, or rather what I’ve got so far hahaha

I’ve written only the first part, but it’s quite long - 2766 words!

It starrs a teenage runaway who ends up in Volterra, but is only part 1

Content warning: brief mentions of blood, violence and depression

The air was uncomfortably warm, and the breeze was too slight to make it bearable. Her lungs were burning, muscles tender, her sweat sticky, cloying. Her hair clung to her forehead, her neck, her shoulders, her back – her blood sticky, cloying. Her wounds ached and pain shot up her right arm like a bullet, incapacitating her. A flashback replayed in her mind’s eye. She was unable to pull her gaze away from what she saw.

The chains were all too real, it felt as if the cold, harsh metal still incarcerated her wrists, her neck, her ankles. She looked down. The raw red flesh throbbed in her joints, and her dislocated shoulder, scarred from a previous injury. The injury from the flashback.

The bowl of rancid cat food made her stomach growl. It was the only food that had been near her for three weeks. She did not care that it was for cats. She did not care that it was months past its use-by date. She did not care that it would be bad for her. It was food. That was what mattered. She stretched out forward with a deep breath, her arms spread out behind her like she was flying, like an angel falling from the sky. The shackles tore agonisingly into her wrists as she strained, desperate to reach the bowl with her tongue. Her shoulders burned and stung as she gave up caring, and flung herself forward with all her remaining strength. The skin tore. She screamed as her right shoulder ripped out of its socket and a tear opened at the top of her arm, hot blood streaming down her emaciated body.

She shuddered at the memory.

Her shoulder was healed now, barely, but at least she was free.

Freedom.

It did not feel as good as she had hoped it would.

But that feeling, that hope, the longing for the euphoria, propelled her. Though she felt as if she had been walking for an eternity, she wanted to be nowhere but the furthest she could be from Cecina as she could get. Thus, she trudged on, over the Italian countryside, wandering, lost, waiting until she felt safe enough to stop and find someone to help. “It would be so much more helpful if I knew Italian,” she mumbled to herself in the dark, then laughed quietly. Of all things, she thought, I would be worried about that?

She came to the top of the hill she had been climbing and observed the landscape. She would have preferred not to climb hundreds of feet up and down hills, but in central Tuscany, she had no choice. The entire landscape comprised of hills, each of them seeming to rise higher than the next to her weak physique. A town’s friendly, alien, orange lights lit up the next hill, higher than the rest, and she felt a strange pull towards it. The silver light from the full moon gleamed off the buildings, enhancing the majesty of the city’s strong walls, and two high towers atop the hill. Perhaps this place was safe enough?

She did not take the road into the town. She feared the cars’ headlamps, ducking down into the grass whenever two yellow beams lit up the road, despite being so far from it. She knew that they would be looking for her. Her anxiety of being caught nearly choked her. She stumbled around the perimeter of the city, looking for a way in that would have no cameras, no witnesses. But each time she found an arch in the imposing stone wall, her panic swallowed her whole and she had to sit down and try to breathe.

But, after over an hour of searching, she found a smaller wall off the path she had been following, and away from all the roads. Carefully glancing over her shoulders, she raised her arms painfully above her head and her hands discovered the top of the wall. It was rough, and scraped her skin as she hauled herself up, wincing and biting her tongue in agony. She no longer cared about getting hurt again. She just wanted her ordeal to be over.

She fell hard to the ground with a thud, but was only grateful to be finally lying down. She rolled onto her stomach and her white hair fell over her eyes, and from under it she observed her new surroundings.

A contrast to the lonely and distressing landscape around, she lay in a small garden; tidy, decorated with nineteenth century lamps, emitting a comforting warm glow which illuminated the pretty space, reminding her of a lit fireplace in a countryside cottage in winter. A humid breeze swept around her, blowing towards her a new sound – water. In the centre of the small garden was situated a fountain. She dragged herself over to it, and was delighted to find the water clear and sparkling, and dipped her head under the curtain flowing from the higher stone tier into the pool, and drank. It tasted like the euphoria she had been searching for; her freedom, her release, her life. She rose and sat upon the edge of the pool of the fountain, and breathed deeply. The air smelt fresh and clear, filling her aching lungs with relief.

The flowerbed that ran a ring around the garden was home to a multitude of beautiful flowers, well cared for, and in a variety of colours, all dark blues and purples and black in the orange light, and perfectly complimenting several Roman-era statues standing proud. She couldn’t identify them all, but the one directly before her was Venus, she was sure.

She strained a little smile, but it played more in her light blue eyes than it did on her full, broken lips. She leant backwards, and let the cool water envelope her body, and wash her clean. The small white nightgown clung to her torso and thighs, but it felt nice, and lastly, she dipped her head underwater.

Part of her did not want to come up. I should stay down here, she pondered, it would save me so much pain in the future. I really am a silly little girl to think I could just leave like that. They’ll obviously find me. and I’ll have to go back. They are my family after all, as horrid as they are. But maybe I deserve it. What am I good at really? I’ve never even been to school. I can’t read properly. I have no friends. No one would miss me. My mum didn’t even report my birth until I was three. I only know her, and her bastard of a boyfriend. No one would miss me. I’m good at nothing and no one would miss me. No one cares about me. I don’t even care about me. No. She shot back up and gasped for air. I can’t think like that. Not anymore. I’m still young; I can learn. I can meet people. I could have a normal life. Unlikely, very unlikely, no one would want me with all these scars, but maybe, yes, I could try. She pulled her legs up to her chest and remained in the safe little space between the fountain’s central column and the soft, flowing water.

She must have sat there for at least an hour; it was nice there. She wanted to remain there forever. She felt safe here.

Suddenly the light changed. Her heart reacted first, nearly jumping out of her chest. She peered toward the change in light, the shade that seemed to be approaching her. She couldn’t see properly through the water, but she realised that when it passed in front of the lamp closest to the fountain that it was a man, and he was looking right at her. She looked away immediately and buried her head between her knees. But it was too late; he’d seen her.

He spoke to her, almost too quietly to hear over the rushing of the water. His words were Italian; she did not understand. His voice was deep, whispery, and though the tone sounded reassuring, a cold chill shot down her spine. “I …” she started, “I don’t know Italian.”

She dared herself to look up. He was sat on the edge of the fountain now. Strange, she had not heard him move. She could make out his features a little more clearly now. The orange light was still tricking her eyes, for while she could make out black hair, white skin and black clothes, even after blinking several times she only saw his eyes as a bright, terrifying red.

He looked her directly in the eyes, and raised his hand toward her. “There is no need to be afraid, my dear, you can come out from under there.”

She had never spoken to anyone before who wasn’t her two family members, the occasional postman or airport staff. She was almost as afraid of meeting new people as she was staying with the ones she knew. Nevertheless, she told herself to be brave, and took his hand by the fingertips. Surprisingly, she wasn’t shaking. His hand was cold, but so was she. His skin was hard too, like the stone on which they sat. She looked down at her lap, abruptly ashamed to have been caught trespassing. This garden must be his.

“What is your name, sweetheart?”

“Lillian,” she whispered.

He let go of her hand, and she found the courage to look at his face. No, she had not been mistaken. His eyes were most definitely red. His jet-black hair hung straight to his shoulders, and he wore a suit of an identical colour, minus a tie. What most struck her was the contrast between his hair’s dark colour, and the chalky pallor of his skin. She thought that he was handsome in a way, despite the stark disparity in the colours of his face. She though him a sort of creepier, male Snow White.

“Lillian, what were you doing in the fountain?” He cocked his head to the side, inquisitive.

“I don’t know,” she replied.

“Surely there must be a reason,” the man said, and smiled. “It is not a common occurrence for young women to materialise in our little fountain here.”

Lillian couldn’t help but smile too. But then she remembered why she was there, and the smile fell from her lips. “I was hiding.”

“Why?” Why did he want to know?

“I ran away from my mum. We were on holiday in Cecina. Or, she and her boyfriend were.” She sniffed, and gazed at the wounds on her wrists. She looked up at him again, and his attention had been diverted to them also.

He took her left wrist in his hand, and touched the raw skin tenderly. “Did they do this to you?”

She nodded. But you don’t know him! Why are you telling him this? A lump formed in her throat and she forced herself to swallow it. “Yes.” Wasn’t he going to introduce himself? She was too afraid to ask.

His face morphed into an expression of concern. She could not discern if it was genuine. “That is horrible indeed. Do they have a reason for harming you so?” Lillian felt uneasy, as if he was talking down to her, or using her for his own amusement, but she tried to shake that feeling away. If she was going to get better, she needed to learn to trust people. And I can start with him.

“The twins,” she said.

He raised his eyebrows, prompting her to explain.

She shook her head. “It’s just a myth.” She tried to relax a bit, and swung her legs out of the fountain and put her right hand by her side instead of on her lap. He let go of her left wrist. “Apparently, like a thousand years ago, there were two twins in my family, a boy and a girl, who were called witches by the village so they were burnt at the stake. But that’s not what happened, because their cousin went out into the wood to hunt deer or something, I don’t know, and when he came back everyone was dead, the houses were on fire, and the twins were nowhere to be seen. My mum says that they conjured up the devil to save them.” Her shoulder began to throb a little, and she rubbed it gently.

“I see, but how does that tale influence her to harm you, her own offspring?”

“She says the twins had some sort of special powers, and that I do too, but if I really did, then I wouldn’t have managed to escape her so late. I would have probably ended up conjuring the devil to save me or something, too.” She chuckled briefly, but he laughed, and clasped his hands together, entertained. His smile was knowing, as if he was withholding something important from her. But he could not possibly know anything about her family’s story, so she dismissed the feeling once again as due to her lack of social experience.

“I imagine we all would have, given the situation,” he grinned, and reached up to stroke the side of her face with his fingertips. “What does she think you can do?”

Lillian shook her head again. “I don’t know. But I don’t think I want to have a super power or something if it meant I was evil. I don’t want to hurt people.”

“Ah,” he replied, leaning towards her, clearly much more interested in the conversation than she was. “If, hypothetically, there was a chance you could have a super power and yet refrain from slaughtering entire villages and hurting those who have done no wrong, would you take it?”

She hesitated. It was getting light. If there was a helicopter or something looking for her, it could see her out here … “I don’t know. But I think that if I were the twins, I would want revenge on the people who hurt me too. They deserved it, if it’s true, to hurt innocent children like that.” She looked up at the sky. “I might take that chance. But I wouldn’t if my power would be to hurt people.” She glanced back at him. “Sorry, but what is your name? I can’t remember if you told me.”

“Oh! I am sorry, I’ve got ahead of myself. Your story is so intriguing, Lillian!” His pale lips grew into a full, teeth baring grin, briefly before he continued. “I am Aro.”

“Like the weapon?”

He laughed. “Ha ha, no, three letters. A, R, and O.”

She smiled back at him. He was such a happy person. She envied him.

Suddenly his eyes lit up, and he lifted his up his hands and reached towards her, then paused, revising his train of thought. He put his hands together, and raised them to his lips. “Sweet Lillian, can you keep a secret?”

“I think so,” she replied, “yes.” She chuckled once to herself. It’s not like I have anyone to tell any to.

He leaned very close to her then, and she could smell his sweet breath as he spoke. “Some people do have gifts beyond the ordinary,” he revealed, and stroked a strand of her hair, tucking it behind her ear. “I, being one of them.”

She didn’t know what to make of this. Could he be crazy? Or could stories like the twins’ really be true? Her confusion only served to confirm to her that she really did know nothing about the world, and just how vulnerable she really was. Aro could be anybody. He could really have a ‘gift’ like he said, or he could be a madman. She had no idea how to tell. Except to ask. “You do?”

“Yes, here.” He took her hand.

She looked up at his face as he closed his eyes, and pulled her closer to him. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

She just sat there, watching his face, in the rainbow colours of dawn. She noticed red clouds in the sky, so she gazed at them, mesmerised. She’d never had much of a chance in her short life to stare at the sky freely.

Aro regained her attention when he released her hand. Lillian had been daydreaming; she’d no idea how long they had been sat like that. She watched his face again, waiting for him to explain what he was doing.

And from that day forth, she would become unsure whether she had ever stopped daydreaming.